minding the willow

Because of her predicament, she by literally, could not move from the den. Her legs were done and gone, nothing by mounds of flesh that induced man but refused to listen on command. Her front was sore, moving and pushing was a futile task that led her to falling down — though she wondered whether the medics would allow her to do so. They had been kind, continually tending to her as the den smelled holy of every herb that could help.

Laying in the midst of moss, she had her head on her paws with silver eyes gazing out. Snow was lightly breezing by..

the staff team luvs u