Bramblepoint (M) Old wounds leave big scars

He did as she asked and Towhee flashed him a quick, tight smile. She then promptly broke her promise not to move, compelled by some instinct that urged her onto all fours again. When she stood, she remained very still, anticipating another flux of pain. Nothing happened. She would've been relieved, if not for the blood drying, sticky, to the insides of her legs.

"Okay," she said after a moment, "I'm going to try walking back toward the caldera now. Hopefully he'll meet us in the middle." To hedge off any arguments Rye might raise, Towhee added, "I'm going to take it slow, be very careful. But this feels urgent, I can't just sit here and wait. We don't even know if he heard us. C'mon, walk beside me."

That same restlessness compelled her to take a step, then another, without really giving Rye a chance to react. When it didn't hurt, Towhee was tempted to break her word again and speed up to hasten the trip back home. But she squared her jaw and made herself walk slowly, reminding herself that even if she wasn't in danger or pain, it didn't mean the pups weren't.

They hadn't gone far when another urge made her stop. This one was as familiar as it was pressing. "I have to p—" Towhee began, readying to pop a squat right there in front of Rye when her body beat her to it. She felt a warm gush of urine flood down her hind legs, only it wasn't yellow. It was bright red.