So swamped was she by these thoughts- the all consuming feeling of wrongness and rot- that she did not notice the other until a voice ran through the air. It took a moment for her to process what had been said. A nurse, a healer. Who was coming closer.
"Don't touch me-" She gasped, a little more sharp and fearful than she meant. She'd scramble back a couple paces, falling flat on her rump in freezing, powdery snow. She forced herself to sit upright, trembling with what she hoped was the cold rather than fear or sheer effort. Her ears twitched and swiveled like the hare whom she'd stolen her eyes from. "You don't- I don't need-" She stared down a the wolf. She knew, in her memories-that-weren't, that a wolf was no big deal. A bullet between the eyes, and she'd have a nice pelt to sell.
But she knew, in her brains and guts and bones, that a wolf could kill her. Snap her skinny neck between powerful jaws, no matter what she said her intentions were.
She stood, sharp ribs shuddering with quickened breaths. Lanky locks of matted fur doing little to hide each protruding bone or sunken wound. Most of it was crusty and dried, but a glint of something dark and wet stood out on her cheek. She was not healthy by any means, but...
"Theres- There is nothing to heal." She declared softly. "Please just- go."
@Ceartas
