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As she fills up her canteen she finally sees her distorted visage in the stream. The rippled reflection isn't as good as it would be from the mirror she'd misplaced somehow weeks ago – losing that had been more of an annoyance for how useful a survival tool it was than any vanity - but at least her watery reflection gives her an idea of how bad things are. She brings her hand up to circle the outline of the bruise, prodding tentatively at the edge of the delicate split skin that goes with it.
Everything had happened rather quickly. Her rushed rappelling over cliff face with only tenuous handholds available had dislodged plenty of the scree settled around the branches she was using to make her descent but there was no way it was as dangerous as what was following her. Scrabbling to put distance between herself and the predator of the day, she'd made the mistake of looking up in time to see a large rock hurtling down at her, only able to close her eyes and hope for the best. She'd resisted any reaction, except tensing up she allowed herself at the strike of pain, in order to not fall. Never give up. The climb down was tricky with blood dripping into her eye but she repeated the mantra over and over, gritting her teeth. It could be worse, it could always be worse.
She pokes at the tender area now, considering it her price for survival. This is a reminder she is vulnerable, practically the weakest being out here. They'll eat you alive if you let them doesn't even cover it in this world where humanity isn't relevant in the slightest. She has to be faster, stronger. She finds the nearest cliff and climbs up, then climbs down. Ignoring the fear at every noise of stones sliding down after her. She doesn't look up this time, focusing only on her breathing, on her muscles, on the feeling in her flesh there, hurting every time she so much as blinks. If it hurts, she tells herself, at least you're still alive.