Blackfeather Woods rosemary

Ocracoke turns her head when Tahani speaks up, offering her help. She points the other way, taking a heavy deep breath through increasingly rapid ones. Help isn’t enough. Help isn’t going to make sure she knows where the puppy is at all times, or to get her to understand she can’t be a child because of her disability. Ears lay back against her head and she just wants to bury herself deeper into the ground, shaing her head as much as the space will allow.
 
“I can’t,” she repeats, mumbles. “She n-n-needs someone th-h-at can t-take care o-o—” she blubbers, stutters through the distress. It’s not going to get easier. Currituck isn’t going to be easy to care for when Tahani goes back with her sister and her puppies. A heavy stones weighs her heart down, making it difficult to breath. Quietly, she offers in finality, “of her.”