We are made from broken parts

She hobbled forward, form entering the structure as she sought shelter from the raging storm outside. Her howls today had gone unanswered and she was beginning to fear the loss of her children were permanent. Her pelt had snow clumping on it and icicles had started to form on her dead paw. She had been calling for two days now and trying to wait out the snow storm outside. She moved to the now bone chillingly cold deer hide in the old confession booth. This place was cold and she hated it, but she dared not leave without proof of her children's deaths. They were only barely weaned and she had let them wander before the storm kicked up. They had been birthed here in this place before the winter cold had come. She shook her pelt out before she carefully sat, the action award looking but she managed well enough. Her ruby red eyes kept on the door a hope for signs that her little ones would enter at any moment. The scent of birth in this place was stale at best so no intruder would likely enter on the fact that a mother might be inside with pups. It made her less edgy knowing that small fact. She had been the curse her whole life and normal wolves didn't seem to always be respectful enough not to gawk at the curse of a leg she had. There was a glance of her own eyes to it as she thought about chewing the thing off, but pushed the thought away before returning her eyes to the door of the chapel.