Bearclaw Valley must they subject even my pain to the disapproval of their gaze?

she bristled as he rounded the corner, but her hackles were quick to return to her closed off form in case it offended him, in case it brought forth more punishment.  her eyes widened for a moment before he lay down beside her, and she noted his care in keeping his distance.

good.  she did not want to be touched.  her entire body sung with pain from the frostburned tips of her ears down to the lacerations on her side, the cracked paws of her pads and the torn and inflamed nether regions.  she really didn't want the comapny, either (or at least that's what she told herself — it was entirely untrue).

she was so caught up in her own grief that she had not stopped to consider how he might feel.  she didn't want to.  she had left to forget how he had made her feel because it was dangerous!  if she had not stepped foot inside the packlands, if she had stayed in what she now thought of as her rightful place just right here, perhaps none of this would have happened.

her gaze is somewhat distrustful as it casts upon his rueful figure, and she wishes now most of all she could communicate to him everything that had transpired while she was gone and how sorry she was for ever soiling his life with her presence.  but she does not make a move to speak, and instead she keeps her searching doe-eyes fixed upon him, waiting.