Rising Sun Valley I know not by what power I am made bold,

 

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she stills upon realizing that her frantic motions, in the moment, have only served to drive thorns further into her fur; one particular one is driven deep into her pawpad, another stabbing somewhere just above her hock. such is her predicament that her honed senses do not catch the approach of another, and the sudden voice has her still completely, working suddenly to draw in the foreign scent and determine as much as she can of the voice.

the stranger moves near, and she is still; the feminine presence (identified through voice and scent and lightness of step) moves carefully beside her, tugging at the brambles and thorns, and the girl quiets. she begins to move, untangling herself slowly and carefully, relying only on touch and careful movement to ascertain where best to shift her weight.