Volare

Another whine; her response was clearly not the right one at all. Oh, how she wished she could sink into the ground, how she wished she could just disappear, or not exist, or never fought, or never did something. Yet, she couldn't move. She just wanted to cower, cower against the wall of her den, but she found herself immobile. She wanted to cry, in a way, yet couldn't. Pain, emotional pain, swam in her eyes instead, and those eyes were downcast. Her tail had fallen still, curling between her legs. When he asked her why, her head ducked down, but she couldn't stay silent. "Iwaspractisingmyjawexercizesonanotherwolf," she mumbled, still not looking at the boy.

Her ears, if possible, flattened even further to her skull, and she felt herself sinking lower and lower into the ground, pressing herself into the den wall as if that would save her from this. It was true, every word; she knew it, and it kinda hurt, and she kinda didn't want to hear it, but it hurt worst of all from Starling. Her body tightened in on itself, curling into itself in a ball, nose buried under her tail and all four paws tucked in close to her body. She tried to bury her head, eyes staring blankly, tear-filled, at the back of her den. He spoke again, but she merely tried curling into a tighter ball, staying that way even when his voice remained soft.

"Speech" "Italian"