She's reluctant to give into his suggestion to quit worrying, eyes and ears continuing to stay on high alert. At least until he explains (or from her perspective, reminds her) the others will most likely aid each other. Almost at last, her ears settle on him, and her gaze does too, for a considerable length, as if she's finally content to visit despite her agitation. He's right. And she needs to give them the opportunity and room to help each other. Her doubts aren't entirely subsided, bad evils can still ambush two or even three people at once, can devastate a whole land.
Her purpose and use is to mother, and be a mother, and without her usual means, much of the time she doesn't know what to do with herself. She's lost a lot, she's heard of things that have happened, it keeps her on edge—if she lets up too much... This kind of feeling is what it amounts to. However, he inspires her to try to let up a little, so rather than another chorus of whines she sighs heavily out of her snout and tucks her ears down to listen to him, faintly tilting her face one way or the other.
Instinctively, her ears perk to more attention at the offered food, and almost guiltily her nose is wriggling. Then, he claims she looks fancy, and she... almost looks startled. She can imagine Issun's unending, uproarious laughter, his tiny fist pounding her head, or tugging the hair there. He'd probably say something like, Are you kidding me?Ammy? And in her old language, she'd admonish him ineffectually: What's wrong with him thinking I look nice?
There's the slight crushing sound of snow under her paws as she takes one, then a second step closer, tempted by the smell of the jerky. Her nose twitches near it, for a whole minute, she must seem as if she's really considering it. But the one who needs food to survive is him—and rather than pinching her teeth on one end, she nudges her head against his hand grasping the meat and presses it forward, stepping meaningfully after it to push it back toward him. He should eat it. Go on, then.
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Her purpose and use is to mother, and be a mother, and without her usual means, much of the time she doesn't know what to do with herself. She's lost a lot, she's heard of things that have happened, it keeps her on edge—if she lets up too much... This kind of feeling is what it amounts to. However, he inspires her to try to let up a little, so rather than another chorus of whines she sighs heavily out of her snout and tucks her ears down to listen to him, faintly tilting her face one way or the other.
Instinctively, her ears perk to more attention at the offered food, and almost guiltily her nose is wriggling. Then, he claims she looks fancy, and she... almost looks startled. She can imagine Issun's unending, uproarious laughter, his tiny fist pounding her head, or tugging the hair there. He'd probably say something like, Are you kidding me? Ammy? And in her old language, she'd admonish him ineffectually: What's wrong with him thinking I look nice?
There's the slight crushing sound of snow under her paws as she takes one, then a second step closer, tempted by the smell of the jerky. Her nose twitches near it, for a whole minute, she must seem as if she's really considering it. But the one who needs food to survive is him—and rather than pinching her teeth on one end, she nudges her head against his hand grasping the meat and presses it forward, stepping meaningfully after it to push it back toward him. He should eat it. Go on, then.