... They thought nothing touched them anymore. After everything they'd done, nothing should. Especially after Flowey left.
But it's been more than a year. And this is different. Frisk can smell the fear, the desperation, a stench that hits them like a stone to the face when the wolf rushes towards them, and then--
--then it's eating, swallowing, choking on the dirt, and it's such a painful and visceral sight that... well, this is the most they've felt in a while, a bad feeling in their stomach, a panic in their heart. It's like something oily black seeped into their center, staining everything it touched. They don't like it. It feels bad. The wolf probably feels worse.
Frisk drops to their foreleg's knees. Their hands, ashy and soot-stained, try to control the wolf's jaws, try to move its head down--"Still, boy!"--to try and get at least most of the dirt out. Don't eat dirt. That's bad.
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... They thought nothing touched them anymore. After everything they'd done, nothing should. Especially after Flowey left.
But it's been more than a year. And this is different. Frisk can smell the fear, the desperation, a stench that hits them like a stone to the face when the wolf rushes towards them, and then--
--then it's eating, swallowing, choking on the dirt, and it's such a painful and visceral sight that... well, this is the most they've felt in a while, a bad feeling in their stomach, a panic in their heart. It's like something oily black seeped into their center, staining everything it touched. They don't like it. It feels bad. The wolf probably feels worse.
Frisk drops to their foreleg's knees. Their hands, ashy and soot-stained, try to control the wolf's jaws, try to move its head down--"Still, boy!"--to try and get at least most of the dirt out. Don't eat dirt. That's bad.