the headlines just don't paint the picture right

The healing process had been far slower than Henbane had intended. Darkening their doorstep in ways she didn't plan on, feeling like a burden. For as much as she tried to help with the kids, her demeanor is gruff. She's not moving well, the wound on her shoulder struggling to stay closed at its worst points. A rubbish patient, Hen hasn't done much to help the process. If she rests, she feels lazy. Trying to help out around the house, trying to hunt, trying to keep moving... it's probably been for the worst.

Doesn't keep her from trying. It's upon returning from a hunt with Molly in tow, that Hen is limping once more. The girl is grinning ear to ear, a mink clutched in her jaws. Across Hen's back, a few fat hares as well. It was the mink that Molly was really quite proud of, having killed it in defense of the kill. Well, Hen had done all but skewer the fucker with her tusk after it had chomped her already-wounded shoulder, but Molly had done the killing. Whatever version of events the girl presented, Henbane wasn't about to argue it, instead giving a little grin as she sent the kid off to tell her tale.

Draping the hare carcasses over a rack, she's quick to begin processing them. Better to do it now, then when the soreness really started to set in.

"Speech"