Stone Circle let me fix you

@Calloon
she had healed. the scabs had fallen from her face, leaving angry red scars that zig-zagged across her muzzle, a few lighter ones running over one of her eyes. luck had been with her, for then she would have lost not just her voice but her sight. the angry scars gave her the appearance of a fighter, a warrior, when really she was anything but. 

being at home helped her some. no longer did the fear of being alone constantly linger, no longer did she start at every sound. she simple act of stepping over the border had alleviated some of the weight that sat in her chest. she still had a distance to go; the was thin, weeks of going without eating had expressed itself clearly in her form. she had lost the plump roundness of adolescence and did not know if she would gain it back. 

she raced after a hare now, embraced the burning in her lungs and limbs, the screaming of her muscles as she pushed to her extent. the creature's eyes bulged, rolled back in its skull, limbs working overtime. yet her hunt would not prove fruitful, for it vanished down its burrow, leaving her to collapse beside it, staring darkly into the hole in the earth.

[table width=80%][tr][td]The ghostly boy tripled along the border with a rarely seen bounce in his step - his slender form gliding over the marked line that protected them from unwanted visitors. Every now and again did he find a clean patch of grass that he rolled in excitedly, rubbing his mature scent with that of the alpha pair that he was so thankful for. When his round was done, he picked himself up again and decided to go beyond Easthollow's claimed land. First, he trotted but soon he began sprinting - moving with the grace of a magnificent mist around trees and over obstacles when he scented something.

He vaguely recognized the young, feminine smell but could not completely place it in his sharp skull. Still, if someone e knew was out right now he simply had to say hi. He was the man of a thousand names and would never pass up an opportunity to rub his mystery and happiness off on others. He followed her trail to where she lay; tired and panting from what he could only assume was a failed hunt or a tiring exercise.

As a newborn pup, he sniffled and looked worriedly at the hopefully resting female, offering silent companionship in her time of need with some whines.[/td][/tr][/table]

she squeezed her eyes shut, lungs moving overtime to cool her, the lack of a tongue making panting a thing of the past, and recovering herself a more difficult task. her maw slid open instinctively and her breath came fast, the lack of a tongue easily made obvious, that there was something off about the girl's already heavily scarred face. 

it took longer than it should have for her to notice the pale boy, her gaze flashing open to fall on him and empty maw immediately snapping closed. there was burning shame in her; the lack of a tongue made her a freak, made her something to be feared, as her wounds had when they had first been inflicted. she knew, because she had seen the fear herself.

her gaze travelled to rest on the boy, sniffing him too and finding him familiar- his scent she knew, and she thought that she had spotted him once or twice before. She didn't know his name, nor his affliction. she chuffed between her teeth in greeting, faded blue gaze resting on him as her overworked body gradually calmed.

[table width=80%][tr][td]It was sooner rather than later that noticed something off. The lacking of a tongue was something that he had never seen before - he only knew his was missing but he had not dared look at it whenever he went near water or other mirroring surfaces. Still... what could've happened to the little lady? Who in their right mind would've done this to such a young, harmless girl that, to his knowledge, had never hurt a fly in her life? Then again, he had been quite innocent as well when his tongue was separated from the rest of his body. His white brows frowned - picking up shameful vibes given by how she didn't seem to want to show her deformation to him or anyone else.

And so, he did something he did not usually do as a first introduction. He opened his mouth as he faked a yawn, revealing his own stump of a tongue with a sad smirk when he ended. She was no freak. The ghostly boy was naught ashamed and neither should she be. Being without a voice often proved difficult, but it was far easier to handle than a sickness or a missing leg. It often proved peaceful, too, because you could never get into arguments with friends or family... if only this had been the case when he was still at home... He dropped beside her, lying as she lied and placed a careful wet nose against her shoulder if she'd let him.[/tr][/td][/table]