The Sunspire It Might Seem Crazy What I'm 'Bout to Say

Akita was lost in the movements of her body and his, as they spun and pranced and generally had fun. He didn't seem to mind her close proximity, so she continued her light touches, brushing a tail or a side against him every now and then, her eyes a-twinkle with mischief. But then he stopped, and said, "That was fun, but my injury hurts. I have to quit. I'm sorry Akita."

Immediately, her dancing stopped, so quickly that she nearly tumbled forward, and she stared at him, eyes traveling downwards to where he was holding up a leg, paw hanging in the air. He'd been limping earlier. Why hadn't she noticed. She was a healer, so why hadn't she noticed? She quickly found his eyes, a look of sorrow overwhelming her usually sunny ones. "I'm sorry," he said, her voice back to its usual whisper. "I should not have made you dance."

She sat down, leaning forward a bit to study his leg. "What is wrong with it? Has it been looked at by a healer? Is there anything I can do? It doesn't look infected and there is no open wound. Did you... break the bone? Or twist it?" She couldn't help her words now. They poured from her mouth like a river breaking a dam. She had an urge to help -- to heal. Especially since she may have just exacerbated whatever wound he had.