He pulls his hand back, startled by the look of fear. She hasn't acted afraid of him as long as she's known him, even knowing his other form. Why the sudden look now? And when it's gone as quickly as it came, replaced by the tentative and thoughtful expression, he carefully doesn't frown, not wanting to discourage her in any way-- but he's thinking. Hard.

The child has been through trauma. That's the only explanation. He's seen that reaction before, though never in one so young.

He slowly reaches down to ruffle her hair once more, more gently and with more warning this time, in the hopes of reaccustoming her to it as a positive thing. "We'll do that, then. Here's my load, and your mother will bring you hers."