Hushed Willows What I would do to take away this fear of being loved

Prialux's tremulous steps into the entry of the den grew braver by the day. She no longer trembled quite so much when she poked her head out into the shade of the woods, and the shifting autumn leaves no longer consumed every ounce of attention she had to give. She could focus now on additional details, like the sky that shifted in and out of focus beyond the leaves, or the litter that carpeted the ground. Once, she saw a mouse skitter past, and she retreated into the dark of the den so quickly that she smashed her shoulder into the wall.

It still smarted as she poked her head back out nearly an hour and a half later. Her curiosity got the better of her, and even though she winced away as though a mouse would come flying through the hole at her face, there was nothing but the extremely muffled sound, like static, of the world. And then there was white light. A distinct pop within Prialux's head preceded a ringing in her ears, not unlike a stun grenade going off in the movies, and she squeezed her eyes shut as she was assaulted with new senses. The sound of leaves rustling above was like garbage cans banging together to her delicate, newly opened ears. The gurgle of water in the distance was as loud as a waterfall. The call of a crow seemed loud enough to be right in her ear.

She squealed and screwed her face up and pressed herself to the floor, half in and half out of the den, with her tail wriggling pitifully and anxiously as she fought to adjust to this abrupt and disorienting change.

@Kavos