Lone Star Mountain you are not the sound of cannons breaking the sky open

The tension doesn’t ease when he steps away from her, trying to trail him until the sounds stops in front of her. Her ears flick back against her head, feeling the need to drop her nose and point her empty gaze to the ground.
 
No, he says a beat later. She knows he is right. She’d refuse the food, the poison. She’d take all the pain in the world from the devil himself if it meant her end, but somehow she knows it wouldn’t be. He’d find a way to keep her from dying and bring her back, just enough, to prove his point or do it all over again. A shiver runs down her spine—I could help you—and she trembles, shuffling her front feet and slinks back down to the ground, sitting sternal.
 
Ocra remains silent, finding she has no answer for him aside from the slight lift of her nose, as if she were to look at him to continue.