Blackfoot Forest black skies only know how to bleed

I did.

“Oh.”

Ocra cringed, turning her nose away and ears fell back against her head. She wanted to laugh about it and brush it off but there’d been nothing easy or soft in the male’s tone. Perhaps he wasn’t able to note her tone or the expression she wore when pleading for a little leeway to her furthering humiliation. The warmth in her cheeks settled and remain and would shine bright red if she didn’t have the fur blocking the view.

When the male doesn’t go anywhere, Ocra lifted her head back up to look at him. He stood there awkwardly without any indication what he might want to do—especially in the dark when she’d barely been able to look at him for any length of time—so she cleared her throat and tried to brush it off.

“I didn’t uh, see the root,” she said, taking a hobbled step to the side to show the raised culprit. It didn’t help her legs had been tired already so her feet had been dragging the ground, getting caught up and tangled and sending her to the ground. “I usually have a little more grace, I think,” she added though the compulsion to keep talking lingers, she snapped her jaws together again to prevent herself from doing so.