"---- No, no, please don't do this-"
Another harsh tug. She feels like he's going to yank her arm right out of the sock, or maybe just pull her along thumping after him. Now that would be terrible, wouldn't it? Half the town already looks at her suspiciously, as if she's to blame for something horrible, and the other half are brimming with questions that they aren't interested in keep in. Keeping to herself has just been a better idea then trying to venture out. The fact that she's her at all is amazing, even while trying to wrestle the giant dog into listening to her. He tugs her again, and this time the leash comes undone, slapping her arm, leaving a dark red welt as the animal takes off down the street.
She cries out and then takes off after him (a time when she actually wishes she still had the speed she'd had as a coyote). He weaves between the trees and she stumbles awkwardly to make sure he doesn't get away from her. Then he barrels straight into a form and takes them down. Malia stops, both hands covering her mouth to quiet the gasp, then she's off again, already apologizing as she scrambles for the leash. Then she sees who it is.
She wishes she could say she has more grace than she does. (She falls right over and blushes scarlet.)
"Oh! I'm so sorry!"
Shaking fingers grasp her dogs collar and yanks, pulling him off the boy who had saved her, her arms locking around his neck to keep him from licking his face all over again. "Are you okay? I should've- should've had a better grip on him. I'm sorry." She's practically tripping over her words in her haste, and abruptly stops, pressing her fingers to her lips.
Human interaction and all that - eight years without it.
