There was supposed to be a universal code where bad things were limited to one a day. If you survive an avalanche, that was the quota for the day. But perhaps the glacial tumble threw the world out of order. For when she survived that fiasco and the kidnapping attempt that preceded it, the scavenger birds came in droves. What they missed in their claw attacks, they scored with their perfectly aimed droppings. With her horned crown of shame, she ventured to a nearby ravine, submerged herself in the freezing ground rain and wracked her horns against rocks and branches in an attempt to cleanse the s**t off. She must have brushed up against a tree too hard because a considerably hefty branch fell, splashing and splaying across her back, pinning the totoma to sharp boulder edges. All but broken, she dragged herself out to lay in the sun to cool. Of course there was a biting wind that day. Sleep couldn't come soon enough but when she finally succumbed, young cries jolted her onto her feet.
Two totoma lambs sitting in a tree. If they found a way up, they could surely make their way down. A concept they didn't understand until eventually they convinced her, somehow, to break their fall. And she did, finally herding them to their havens which were naturally under attack. Foreign raiders and all that. Unable to forgo that, she eventually made her temporary home in a nearby cave and slept. It was a day of days, endless as it was merciless.