Fox's Glade [m] Take these broken wings

She had already stayed out later than she'd intended, but Thistle couldn't drag herself away from the view. Evergreen would forgive her for being late; he was understanding like that. She only wanted a few more minutes alone with her thoughts, and then she would go. Unfortunately, that was too much to ask of the universe--and it let her know in a spectacularly terrifying fashion.

Thistle barely heard the wolf before he was on her. She would never be certain what alerted her; a whisper of wind hitting fur, the subtle crunch of grass beneath large paws as weight shifted. Whatever it was, Thistle's ears twitched and she turned just in time to see her attacker's teeth closing in. A lifetime of wrestling a brother twice her size had her instinctively trying to dart between his forelegs to get behind him, even as she yelped. It was the only direction she could see that gave her even a slim chance; darting back or to the side would keep her in his sights, and he was much closer to her brother's size than her own--in a fair fight, she was screwed.