whatever the opposite of strong and silent is

The jolt that ran up her forearm when his head turned to kiss her paw was electric and she pulled the limb back to her chest as though stung. That didn't stop a surge of something dark and terrible taking root in her chest when he finally spoke. Never before had she looked at another person and thought with such certainty mine. Her chuckle had a nervous edge, “I migh' hold yer ter tha'...” She quietly warned, the lopsided smile on her face not quite reaching her eyes. It was just the stress, right? There wasn't anything to it. Air. She needed air. “I'll just be outside, I need ter warm some water an' we can' light a fire in 'ere.”

The freshness of the air was like plunging into cold water. She breathed deeply and hurried about steeping the tea. Usually she would take more care, but she needed to get back inside and make sure he was ok. The brewing done, she kicked out the flames and retreated back inside.

She set one dose down beside him and situated herself close enough that her butt rested against the bottom of his ribs, leaving enough room that he could rest up on his elbows if needed, and tried to not think too hard about why she chose there of all the places under this tree to sit. She found herself really interested in the patterns the timber made up what served for a wall. “Does it happen often?” She questioned quietly, curious to know more.

“Speech”