Wheeling Gull Isle highwayside

pain and rage and hate crested, and broke. "coward," she spat again, heedless, fearless, made animate only by the strength of her anger. "fighting your son's battles, you gutless—" a scream interrupts her words; she'd attempted to use her broken limb to push herself forward after the bitch, and crumpled to the earth immediately. there were more insults, more hate she wished to spew, but her broken body would have none of it. 

she moved to rise once more, but could only lurch halfway up before faltering, falling, her world made dark once more. she would not rise again, at least not today.