[OOC] I feex eet for eeewww! Thanks for such a prompt reply. I'm awestruck!!! P.s. I'm going through her profile and changing her size, so you might want to reread that part.
[IC] Through her weak eyes the emerging silhouettes were black strokes of wet-on-wet watercolor. For this reason her other senses were attuned like four master musicians creating harmonies to explain the world from within. Sometimes the senses' song was not so pleasant. Like at the current moment when it reached a terrifying climax at the tune of honed metal being unsheathed- a quiet scream from an invisible source -Flint's blood froze and her muscles ceased to respond to her brain's 'go' signal. She was as still as the surrounding snow, but as visible as an albino's sore.
Someone's feet ate the snow; a veritable tap, tap of clawtips incisoring the frozen flesh. No doubt this was the owner of the exposed knife who quickly and quietly approaching her like an aged killer, but occasionally he stopped. She thought, probably to spy upon her until he could pick out her weak spots. Her usual flight-or-fight response was jammed. All she could do was stand there and feel out the danger with acute senses, hoping the onlooker wouldn't figure out just how weak her sense of sight was.
When the moving blur reached her short line of sight her body compressed with fear. There was an almost unnoticeable lift of her lips- a clear sign not too pierce her space with his intimidating presence or knife. It wasn't a concious gesture, merely life-long fear of everything engrained in a sensitive mind. It was defense, not offense. Though, a relatively primitive one among the modern world of canines.
She squinted her eyes to get a flash of clarity from the figure, but there was no knife to be seen. In fact, his face looked rather pitying. Then he spoke with the passion of stone in winter, cold but strong and sure nonetheless. She found it ironic that his eyes were so large and colorful. She imagined his soul was surrounded by countless guards on the ready.
When she realized the tension was revealing her own brand of knives, white and shimmering with saliva atop their connected pink hilts, she subdued her instincts and blushed invisibly. She tried not to quake, but her words trembled beneath the two-legged shadow. "To find a safe place. A... a home I guess." She hesitated to mention why but finally with a tentative frown she gazed indirectly at the male into the blurry oblivion she was used to. "Something is coming. I'm scared and I don't want to die, not literally." She shook her head slowly in hopes he could at least sense where she was coming from.
Flint was vunerable because she wore her heart for all the strange, dark world to see and touch and harm at whim.
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