[Though she thinks her hoof connects with something, less from actual sensation beneath the hard layers of keratin and more from the arrest of motion in the leg connected... It doesn't stop whatever is happening to her from happening. Someone is talking to her, their voice soft and calming, the sort of voice she'd heard so rarely that she can't even begin to think they're talking to me.
They might be.
The pain is dissipating, warmed and soothed. The cracks in her bones realign and the next inhale is sharp, gasping, both sets of lungs rising and falling uneven and shallow from exhaustion.
But she remains on the ground. Turns her face into the ground and grinds her nose into the dirt where it belongs, hiding her face and choking on the shame and indignity of being saved by some sick, unnatural means, snatched from the brink of a hopeful death and left instead to reveal in the embarrassment of her body obeying another instead of herself.]
no subject
They might be.
The pain is dissipating, warmed and soothed. The cracks in her bones realign and the next inhale is sharp, gasping, both sets of lungs rising and falling uneven and shallow from exhaustion.
But she remains on the ground. Turns her face into the ground and grinds her nose into the dirt where it belongs, hiding her face and choking on the shame and indignity of being saved by some sick, unnatural means, snatched from the brink of a hopeful death and left instead to reveal in the embarrassment of her body obeying another instead of herself.]