Bearclaw Valley my sad soul forgot its pride

he turned away to lead her.
the prompt of his voice, no longer barbed but somehow inviting, was like a balm to her lonely soul. the man had not proven himself injurious to her yet; he had brought her food many times and company often, shaped as lessons, and now a further freedom was granted.
it was hard to follow him. he did not move swiftly but his steps were reaching by virtue of his size; indra was frantic as she saw the gap between them increase and indeed struggled, fighting her way to his heel.