Bast felt bad when the dog-boy yelped, so she let go of his tail. It hurt to get picked up by your tail, and she hadn't meant to do that to him. She just didn't know what the pretty lady was doing. She was a very confusing person, Bast decided.
But she did know just the right way to stroke an ear. Bast leaned into the touch, bu tit was gone too fast, and the pretty lady stood up so she couldn't butt her head against her hand to ask for more. Then the pretty lady said she was leaving and just walked off.
What happened to the hand holding? The whole way here, the pretty lady kept holding her hand. Even when Bast wold pull away to look at something neat, the pretty lady would wait and take her hand again. Now she didn't want to no more? Fine. Bast didn't need to hold hands anyway. It was stupid.
She flexed her claws and decided this was better. The pretty lady could leave. Fine. Just fine. She'd play with the dog-boy instead. At least he could wrestle.
She gently bumped the top of her head against the underside of his jaw, then slide the side of ther face against his cheek. Now he smelled better. He smelled like her. He was hers. She'd play with him and they didn't have to hold hands or nothing stupid like that.
“Is your tail broken?” she asked, because he'd yelped. She didn't say she was sorry, 'cause she never said that. Not ever. Even if she was. “Crocodile broke mine once. It hurt a lot. Did I break your tail? Mud can make it feel better. I'll help you.”