Lone Star Mountain #newdaynewme

He claims to have twisted his ankle and she swallows a sudden lump in the back of her throat. A glance at the rest of him doesn’t put the second claim to doubt, thin and ragged, but something still doesn’t sit right. She can’t fight it anymore. Whatever is talking to her is not something she wants to find out. “It’s not very swollen,” she tells him, daring to look away from his face to confirm her statement. “You’ll be hunting in no time. Maybe… not on a mountain, though,” she suggests, ears splayed back as she begins to back pedal, uncertain when and where it isn’t too obvious to turn around and run.