Her footsteps were heavy, and her exhaustion was prominent, obvious in the way that she walked. Blood, an unnatural purpleish hue, dripped down her face and onto the grass below her feet, but that didn't matter now.
It felt like war to have made it here. The weeks on end where she had been away, trapped, caged, as if she were a stray caught in the streets by pest control. Her legs ached, but she was here, she was home, where she belonged.
She felt week, her eyes drooping with the effort to stay open, her face aching with the split of her injury, but she didn't have anything to bandage it with. She was large, and had a lot of blood, she would be fine for now. The wings that folded against her back ached with the wear and tear of the fighting, the thrashing, all too similar to a wounded animal.
She was different now. Her hair had grown long and white, and white fur had grown along her arms and face and legs. Her sclera had become black, and her irises had become purple to match the blood that dripped from her face. She had grown larger, more beast-like. She hated it, but it wasn't something she could change anymore. It didn't matter now.
She ducked her head through the entryway, stepping into the building. She was here, she was home.
