ISCARIOT
My, my, look what a mess you?ve made she thought to herself as she continued to twist her head, attempting to lick clean the raw flesh that sat over her shoulder. It was impossible; every time she turned her neck that direction, the sprain it had received would make her wince. Even if she had been able to turn her head, licking at the wound in such a direction would be almost impossible. Blood oozed freshly from her wounds, and the majority of the injuries were in places that the new Madame could not reach. Shit fuck god damn it she cursed in her head, eventually relaxing and letting herself bleed. Victory had not come at a free price, and now she couldn?t make her own body heal. She found her way to the water, sipping quietly from its surface. There was little to be done until she found a healer, except for relax and try to do little things. Drinking water would help; hydration was key in circumstances such as these. She had to hold out, to keep herself from bleeding too much, and await the first who would come across her. It didn?t have to be a skilled healer; merely somebody who was willing to put pressure on her wounds and stop the blood that spewed down along her midnight-colored fur. She doubted this would be the last time she bled in such a way, not after what she?d accomplished. |