Everyone sporting more serious injuries has been ordered to sit, ducklike, in their new camp. Peregrine's not one to disobey anyone, especially Serpent—she would never!—but even she's gotten bored as the hours passed and her face started to itch. Oh, well, she'll be back out in the forest soon enough, this time with her new Clanmates at her side.
…She does miss some of Sable's group—okay, all of them—and she's sad, to put it plainly, that they couldn't work it out blood-free. Peregrine shakes her head to dislodge the tear-sodden thought, and then winces as the motion pulls at the cobwebbed gashes on her neck. And she can't talk much—that part's not great either, really. The hole ripped from her chin to halfway up her cheek starts scraping raw when she does, and Serpent probably wouldn't be too happy with that.
" Hey, there, "
she croaks through a bandaged muzzle, turning droopy golden eyes on her nest-neighbor. An upbeat-seeming cat with a pelt that reminds her of the acorns that rained from the skies not too long ago, or of the oak-branches from which they fell. Tone entirely genuine, she manages, " I'm Peregrine. You are? "
// @THUNDERFLASH
