Stir the coals

Her breathing was quick and shallow as he halted her. On the verge of another panic attack. Her pupils were small as her golden eyes looked up at him. Her eyes were nearly filled with tears. His voice gently brought her back to earth, she reached up a paw to grasp his that was pressed against her lip. Grounding. He understood! He said exactly what was going on, her head just wouldn't stop! She didn't know how to make it stop!

He mentioned shelving defences... He mentioned instincts... she had none, all her instincts were honed in running, staying quiet, hiding, exploring, doing many things alone. She had never known warriors before Basilisk and the Armada. She would be a terrible leader.

She followed him to the obsidian sands. Still cool from the early morning, only just catching the sun's rays. There were different sounds here than there were in the Col. At least a lot less people wandering about going about chores and duties. She was curious about what he was going to teach her.

Her brows knitted together as she didn't understand what he was doing. But she did as she was bid. Sit on the sand. She couldn't find a comfortable spot, her body was still tense and wound up like a spring from her pacing.

She shook her fur out first, a good hard shake that sent sprinkles of her fine white and golden fur aloft in drifts. Her body drew in a long and steady breath all on its own and she tried to sit again. Much better. She sat with her elbows on the grains of sand, her tail tucked around her.

She focused on his breathing, trying to match it. Was she doing it right? How do you empty your mind? Her breath caught again as she started to wind up but paused and tried to match his again.
Her thigh bounced and her paw twitched.

"It won't stop." She said after barely five minutes. How was this related to fighting? Defending? Protecting others? How was this going to help?