Blackfeather Woods lavender

The next few seconds are silent except for the sound of her heart beating in her ears—or is it the girl’s? Ocra’s ears twitch, unsure where to lie to make the girl feel more comfortable but nothing seems to work. Awkward settles into her bones and she turns her head away; if the girl will not move from her space, then she will. Hopefully she avoids the direction the girl stands, turning against the latest whimper. Her head hangs low and she whines herself, turning all the way around until she feels the glen wall on the opposite shoulder, beginning her retreat from the child.