Dawnlark Plains Nothing, no nothing

She takes a deep breath when the man whines softly, focusing on his calming presence. The proximity, as nerve-wracking as it is, helps to soothe her irrational fears the longer it passes without incident. It takes a few moments for her to convince her mind to fully accept the male as not scary, though she has no true explanation for why she'd been afraid in the first place. Perhaps she's broken, somehow, in her head. She swallows hard past the lump in her throat, overcome again with shame, and suddenly her voice returns to her. I um, I-I'm sorry, s-sir — I-I'm not very um, good at — at t-talking to um, strangers, The words come unbidden, and she resists the urge to grimace at her own rambling, slightly breathless apology. I sound so stupid, she thinks miserably, like a dumb kid. But she is a dumb kid, isn't she? A dumb kid who'd gotten lost, and now can't even speak properly to ask for help. She swallows again and adds: I um, I'm... lost. I-I can't find my — my home or my f-family.