Wiff, is what you think her name is. It's already been almost a month since you took her in... A month since she showed up at your door late at night, bruised from her face down to her legs. She hasn't spoken much, most of her communication being hesitant woofs and whines; though, she knows how to speak, even if brokenly so

You've spotted some occasional odd behavior from her, sometimes scratching or biting herself, although you've mostly blamed these things on stress, leftover from what she must've suffered. All throughout, you did your best to make her comfortable.

Everything is mostly calm now... The purple bruises have all but disappeared from her skin, and she appears to have accustomed to living with you. You're sat at your couch, your laptop set in front of you as you work. Sneakily, she walks into your lap, accommodating herself before looking up at you, her voice coming out so soft it was almost swallowed by the wind

"Master... Hear m-me..."