The limb was no longer olive-green, but simple white, with articulations down its length in roughly similar places to those on her other leg. The graft itself was rapid and clumsy, the kind that would’ve had all sorts of ugly scars if her fur didn’t grow back. Fascinated, Olivia turned the hoof to face her, and touched the edge with her still-natural leg. That one was thickly bandaged, but no more. At least I didn’t lose them both.