The Heartwood I don't feel the rain or the sun

She must have gotten good at giving off very distinct don't touch me vibes at this point because no one ever did anymore, and for that, she was grateful. Again, he could have attacked her, but he didn't. It wasn't like she had a chance in a real fight between them, even if she was fairly skilled at this point. If he wanted to kill her, he certainly could, especially now. She heard him murmur her name, but she only continued crying. He was close enough that she could feel his warmth but he hadn't dared touch her, and so she didn't lash out at him again. 

The tears finally slowed and stopped, and she drew in a few shaky breaths, swallowing hard against her raw, thick throat. She gathered herself up and brought herself up into a sitting position, exhaustion clear in her eyes and a deep, haunting sadness in the curves of her expression that spoke to just how much damage her trauma had done to her soul; right now, it felt like irreparable damage. 

She swallowed again and stared at him for a few more silent moments. Why do you keep lying to me? she asked, shaking her head. I don't understand. She said it more as a statement than to him, her tired expression shifting some to reveal hurt and confusion. It's like you're a different version of Donovan when you're with me than when you're with your pack, and I have no idea which one is the real you. She drew in a soft, still slightly shaky breath. You sent someone to spy on my pack? And one of yours attacked one of mine and almost attacked Mal, she continued. Mal is like my family; if something happened to him, I would be devastated. Was he really that incapable of understanding? She looked away, down at her dirty paws and her ears fell a little. She didn't know what else to say.