I had a hen who could count her own eggs. She was a mathemachicken. [Aris]

Gossamer turned her back to the breeze and scooted a bit closer to the bonfire. Autumn had fully arrived and the chill wind from the north was almost constant. At least the sun was out and she savored its warmth as well as that of the fire. She pawed at the bandage wrapped around her left thigh. She probably looked a mess after her battle's with Pyralis. The lacerations across her face, over left eye from the raid were healing but they still itched and were noticeably red. Her newest injuries included lacerations to her thigh, her left side and her left cheek which had swollen up despite her efforts to treat the wound.

Truth be told she was tired. Her emotions had shifted violently up and down and now she was spent. From her hope at her growing skill and numerous victories against the pirate to losing in the raid, and then losing her mother and truth told that was the worst thing. She wanted desperately to tell Zee how she had defeated the pirate bitch once and for all. That she'd done her parents and her pack proud and now she couldn't. That was the worst thing. That sudden, noticeable emptiness.

Gossamer shook her head, willing her thoughts to turn elsewhere. She still didn't know how to process what she was feeling so she stuffed it down and away. First things first, she needed to get back in shape. She didn't know if the pirates would retaliate for Pyralis' murder or not. Surely they'd expected the old bat to go soon one way or another and they'd already won the raid so why bother the Armada further? But then, one never knew with pirates.

Gossamer bent her head down and scooped up one of the pheasant eggs she'd pilfered. She crunched and slurped the treat before licking at her cheek. Ack! She probably should get an ointment on it at some point.