Blackfeather Woods bruised by god

She hears the distant footsteps of another and she remains statuesque. She wouldn’t fight should they retaliate against her for her the crimes of her captor. He’s scent long ago, fading from the area, though she’s certain it’ll never be gone entirely. Imbedded deeply into her memory, he’ll haunt her until her last day—which can’t come soon enough—but not knowing what’s going on around her really plays part. Her life has been limited to single caves and places where she doesn’t have far to move, her senses suppressed by damp, stale air. Though the forest is a dark canopy from one side to the next, everything is… more. All the sounds seem louder, scents stronger, the fresh air overwhelming the longer she lays there.
 
Someone—male—speaks and she flinches, turning her nose inward a little. There isn’t much she can garner from the command to take care of her, but what does that mean for her? Why prolong the execution?
 
When the other female gets closer, she twitches with each crushing step and flinches roughly when she’s touched again and whines at the pain it causes. There’s nothing aggressive about it she it takes her several seconds, but eventually she gets to all four feet, hunched over and low to the ground where her nails can dig into the soft soil.