Bearclaw Valley [m] go back to sleep

she watches intently every move that sobeille makes, every minute change in her expression. she says a word that athalia does not understand — loa? she mimics, the crimson brush of her nape flaring in interest. loa...
was that what mother was? the birds? were they loa?
i... see things, the words fall from her mouth slowly, eyes dropping to the soured, minuscule bones which once made up the inner workings of a forepaw. they leave. then come back. and i hear, she mimes something unintelligibly with a flick of her arm as if she were gesturing to something invisible. no one else does. only me. did sobeille have this too? were they both gifted in some way that the beargirl had not understood until now?
was that why she had the unshakeable temptation to touch her?
almost jarringly, athalia reaches out for her, slowly inching closer until she can touch her muzzle to the space behind the other girl's dark-printed ear. it was innocent, really, at least — at first.
pretty, she murmurs absentmindedly.