Blackfeather Woods dragon's breath

The first few days, she kept to herself. Somehow, this is all still a trap He is in control of. He teases her with uncertainty and fake comfort. What pack wouldn’t attack her on sight? Kill her for being in their territory? Instead, they take care of her, feed her, and treat her wounds. There is little for them to do with most the damage He dealt to her body and still lives inside her mind, haunting every move, every word, every thought.
 
And to make matters worse, she’s barely been able to keep anything down. Whatever is brought to her in the glen is kept until she can try to eat alone, only to have to turn back up a little while later. She tries to play it off by not being used to… decent care that her body rejects anything good for her. This particular morning, Ocra wakes slowly, feeling a little more sluggish than usual. She struggles to sit upright, having to use a little more effort than before and grunts when her weight shifts. Her eyelids have started to scab over empty sockets, leaving her gaze permanently closed.
 
The nook she’s taken to sleeping in (when she can find it), feels a little different too. Nose touches the ground, sniffing around, and checking on a few wounds that still struggle to heal. By the time she explores through her own fur, touching her abdomen and licking herself gently, feeling the swelling of her nipples. Ocra freezes, slowly retracting her nose from the search. If she doesn’t face the problem, it doesn’t exist. Besides, she hadn’t known then (she’s kidding herself if she didn’t know he’d succeed) and only hoped for a miracle. Now, certain her luck has run out, she puts her nose back to her belly to feel over the rest of her teats, all of them slightly swollen.
 
She still has a little time before it is obvious and maybe she can find a way out of this but right now, she has to attend to another urge. Carefully, she picks herself out of the tree and trots a familiar path cautiously to relieve herself, turning slowly and making her way back.

The Night's ears were sensitive, having spent their time in silence and peace most of their life with the being they were attached to. The dripping of liquid, the meandering of paws - someone was near. Someone she did not know much of. She knew they had taken the stranger in, but not much else. It was time to explore this mystery, even though she usually slept through the morning and midday.

She followed the sounds, squinting at the morning light that had become unfamiliar to her, spotting the brownish female from a side. Her eyes looked dark, but Nyx didn't see all that well in light anymore so who knows if what she was seeing held truth to it. You do not look well. She commented. That much was clear, even with her adjusting eyes.

Having her senses adjusted after the lost of her eyes occurred mostly in one cave or another. She does not notice the approach of another until there’s a final step and a statement from across the glen. Her ears fall back against her head and her joints bend, lowering to the ground. She knows so little of the wolves around her and the only wolf she’s around is a mute so Ocra doesn’t know what to expect.

Her heart sinks in her chest and her face points to the ground, hiding away what she can only guess are unsightly scars marring her face. Most days it still hurts but sometimes she’s given something to ease it, something she doesn’t know what it is until she’s ingested (living on the newfound trust of @Relmyna). Ocra can’t begin to imagine what she looks like.

No words come in response, though. He never liked to hear her make a sound, frequently on the receiving end if she so much whines or grunted involuntarily. Her heart begins to pound in her chest as she hunkers down on the ground, submitting to whomever it is in her company.

Her brows raise at the other's act of not just submission but plain terror. She did not know how the other had acquired such ghastly wounds, probably would never know if the other did not speak, but she did know she wanted to help. She had become quite the hero (to herself, mostly) after saving The Ghost child and her sibling, and the taste of victory was better than that of defeat or worse, just not doing anything at all.

She approached the wounded carefully. Though the lake was not far for the one who was not that badly hurt (her torn ear had still not completely mended, but it was much better), she thought it better not to bring the other there to wash off just yet. May I help you? Though she had not paid much attention, healing was something she was slightly familiar with, but that was actually not the kind of help she was offering. She knew that, no matter how good the body was, the mind had to be healed for the one to feel truly better. And given the other's reaction to her greeting, she was not doing all that well in that department either.

Most of her days are spent alone and when she has company, it is silent. She does not mind so much, spending the last several months in silence and punished otherwise. The only voice in her head is often His and her dreams are plagued by His presence. The unknown world around her doesn’t help, certain she can hear Him at every turn.
 
The scent of the other is feminine, which keeps her still and silent, and as the stranger moves through the glen with ease of someone that can see, Ocracoke struggles to find her exact location. She turns her head a little so that she can face in her general direction, at least, and to expose her scarred over face. She doesn’t know what the leaders of the pack have told anyone or if anyone else even knows about her being around. The fact the other doesn’t outright attack her means she must know something, but her presence has been around for a few weeks now. Even in solitude.
 
When she’s asked if there’s anything the other can help, her tail thumps once on the ground but curves along her haunches, waiting, unsure how to answer the younger girl.

She didn't know what the other had gone through but losing her vision was probably traumatic enough to turn mute. Unless whoever did this to her had ripped out her tongue as well. This act of violence was not something Nyx supported. She would have at a younger age, and that made her feel pretty disgusting. There was no pleasure to be found in the other's suffering for the young Gamma, but whoever had done it must have had a different view on that.

You are safe here. She reassured. But I can not help you if you do not speak to me. Do you wish to share what has happened? She hoped it wasn't a pack who had done it, honestly. Their numbers weren't ready for another war, if they wished for the wounded woman to return to them. And she'd hate for them to be forced into returning her without a fight.

With only some gentle rustling of the forest bedding did Nyx lay her speckled form down close to the other woman. A careful gaze slid over the other's face and body. She feared the scars on her face would forever be visible, but maybe fur would cover the ones on her body as soon as they were patched up.

The wolf assures her that she is safe here and while part of her knows that is true, the terror still lives inside. Relmyna has been kind to her and Kove has given her refuge, though she’s dealt with no one else aside from the mute mother but that is few and far between. Most of her time is spent alone, isolated from the rest of the world. She doesn’t complain though, for it is worlds better than the torture and constantly being raped by Him or the Other. 

But now she lives in a pack of strangers she doesn’t know and her ability to trust has been torn to shreds and thrown to the wind. 

The other’s closeness keeps her from moving, turning her head away from her so that her scarred face is hidden away. She attempts conversation, as if to help, but Ocracoke trembles just thinking about it. ”No,” she says quietly, voice barely above a murmur. 

The ground rustles a little, she can only assume the stranger has laid down somewhere and hopes she won’t be pressed to relive the past anymore than she already does. Ocracoke doesn't speak anymore, unable to find it in her to disturb the silence anymore. He isn't around but she still flinches each time, worried he'll lash out and hurt her for making a sound, before the other eventually gives up and leaves her alone.