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what's in your head?
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Deuce woke up slowly, groggily. She stretched, wincing at the pull on her fractured leg. It was healing, but not fast enough. She picked up the knife, taking a slow look at her sleeping mate. He'd been unfaithful. It hurt. She still wasn't sure she was staying with him. She stood slowly, gritting her teeth against the spasm of pain from her fractured leg. She didn't have anymore idea what to do for it. It was time to go see Fatin, who was a far better healer than Deuce would ever be.
She used her cane to limp down the hall. A little over a month, and the damn thing hadn't healed one bit. She paused outside of fatin's den. She wore the knife in a scabbard on her hip this time, her white blonde mane braied and tossed behind her. She paused outside of the alpha's den, then spoke softly. Lady Fatin? May I speak to you? She wasn't sure if the alphess had ever forgiven her or not; now she didn't have a choice but to speak with the woman. Perhaps the red woman could help setle her uneasy mind, as well.
Today was another sane day. But Deuce was aware that she would have her off days, and not remember them. Almost always, she ended up more wounded than before, after one of her dark days. Deuce didn't know what to do for that, but knew it was time to try.
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