Jade Fern Grove Stop swaying when they move or shake it down

the brief flash of life and death, the hunter's catch and the prey's passing, were entirely lost on the girl save for a brief prick at the back of her skull. it is the stream that has her pause, sensing it before her, it's whispered roar threading through the glade somewhere just before her. she is stilled too by the canid before her; scented now, and heard, the edges of which are visible as ruined gaze adjusts slowly to the sudden influx of light. head cants, twisting a fraction, seeking the outline of the pale stranger through the patchwork of burns and scars that pattern her retina. 

there is silence a moment, after he speaks, and her answer comes as if delivered on a breeze, soft and lilting. "sometimes." there is a glimpse of a ridge that must be a shoulder, and she constructs a vague outline with all the pieces of him she pulls together. she takes a step near, gaze finally settling somewhere just beyond him, where she can see in the fringes of her vision a face, blurred and incomplete.