Amy squints upwards and, not for the first time, hates that she didn't have her glasses on her when she'd arrived, because it's one of those perils of getting older that she doesn't exactly like to admit, a physical piece of proof that she's not as young as she once was. "Why wouldn't the mother come back?" she asks, seeing as it's just a broken paw. "It's only a little bit of a hurt, shouldn't the mother want to tend to the baby?" she says, her own maternal instincts kicking in fiercely, even if hers tend to skew more along the lines of 'you hurt my baby and I will put something sharp through your eye, just watch me'.

Why should animals be any different? She hovers a little closer to give her attention to the squirrel, tucking her hair behind both ears as she looks at the paw in question, not sure she can see how it's even broken.