Blackfeather Woods bruised by god

i couldn’t help myself but to reply right away sry

For a moment, there is nothing. Panic rises in her chest and out her throat, releasing a shaky breath while the rest of her trembles. She feels more eyes on her, that they’ve got her surrounded, but the blood pumping into her ears prevents any real indication of who is around her. It’s not until she hears the crunch of the ground close, the soft sound coming from another, that her attention is directed toward the other.

The side of her muzzle is touched and she yelps; though for more fear of pain, she can’t tell. All she feels is pain, all she’s known for... weeks? months? has been pain. Even compliance has not saved her some strife but it’s all she knows anymore. Ocra tries not to pull away suddenly, afraid to anger, and she does not register the sweet smell of milk or the effects it has on her.

Ocra does not move from the touch, too afraid it’ll anger whomever has approached. Her breathing increases the longer it goes on, her violent shudders fading into trembling every few seconds. Her chest still heaves violently, unable to subside the panic, but maybe, if she doesn’t move, they’ll be merciful in their actions. There’s not an ounce of fight left in her and a swift death is all she asks for, slowly lifting her a chin a little more and rolling over to her side to give the stranger the option.