Bramblepoint i got sugar and salt in my blood

He couldn't see the many shallow wounds that had healed over beneath her thick winter fur. Courtesy of her encounter with Abbadon. Her other wounds, her emotional ones, were still tucked carefully beneath the surface. She was genuinely grateful that he wasn't trying to pressure her, yet coming off as concerned at the same time. Tzila was letting this out on her own. She had to. Somehow. To anyone, no matter how many times until it no longer hurt. Otherwise she'd be eaten alive from the inside out.

Before him then, her body changed. Each coiled muscle squeezed and tightened, her spine stiffening. The smooth skin of her muzzle went taut, but her teeth remained hidden. All to portray her akin to a panther, ready to strike. She didn't look quite so innocent anymore. "He did." She managed to creak out from her throat. "From the day he could speak." That little tidbit there he may latch onto, in that she meant the harm from her brother was emotional...psychological. "One day...I had enough. Enough of being walked all over. Belittled by him and my family." So her brother's ways had a domino effect onto her relatives. Her face darkened. "So I hurt him." She said with a cold finality, sparing the graphic details unless asked. Unless Astaroth truly wished to know the depth of her sins.