Lone Star Mountain #newdaynewme

Ocra’s muscle tense a little more as he takes a step forward. She doesn’t back pedal, but her feet are halfway off the ground. Her stomach turns and she licks her lips. If he’s really hurt and needs her help—they are on a mountain, any number of things could have happened!—she’ll just feel silly, but if she’s wrong? Ocra takes a deep breath and rolls her left shoulder, shifting a step to face the leg he motions to look at it but she doesn’t take any steps closer. If anything, she puts a few extra inches between them. She studies the foot, though, and sees no sign of blood of inflammation. There are little nicks of scars and stories of travel but no real indication anything is wrong by the outside. She clears her throat, looking up to him. “What’s wrong?” she asks, her front foot lifting to hover above the ground, ready to turn in a second.