Whittle Away the Time We Have

She let out a soft, shaky breath as he took the bait and stepped further away from her. He hadn’t been close enough to touch, but it had been enough to make her claustrophobic. For that stupid fear to jump out of her throat and make it hard to breathe. She still felt terribly foolish, but it was easier to calm when he turned his attention to the dead elk.

She looked at that, it was easier than looking at him. And, looking at the carcass, she could remember that she did that. She’d made her second kill, and it was something vastly bigger than a rabbit. She just had to forget about the bits between in order to appreciate it.

Letting a little bit of the elation of her kill rise up in her, she found herself able to lift her head further. To look at Alastor again. She was almost on the verge of a half smile, though it was a little grim as he asked her once again if she was okay.

Then he asked his next question, and her face spasmed. It jolted through her skin and set a queasy feeling in her stomach. No, no having him that close would be unbearable. She was damaged. That’s what that asshole that made her call him father had done to her. He had broken her.

“N-n-n-no” she cleared her throat, stamping a paw a little in the earth with the strong feeling of frustration thrumming through her. “No, it’s fine.” she forced an awkward smile on her muzzle and tapped her scales. “I have a pretty hard noggin”

"Speech"