Redhawk Caldera runner, runner

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Into the night, Coysevox stole away from her family— from their decree, and from her betrothal. Not once did she peer over her shoulder since abandoning Batiscan; and whatever rustling she heard that might be the pursuit of her unwanted fate, did not draw her eye, but rather sent her tearing forward each time.

Fire spewed from every heel and clouds of dust fought to settle again as she passed. Her pace bottomed and crested in all the time she spent in full-flee, but her body never ceased, and her desire to escape never left her.

In her sleep, too, her legs continued to flail. Desperate still to be free, even in her dreams.

---

Exhaustion and loneliness drove her to seek solace at the borders of a foreign pack.

The gilded harpy restrained herself at the first sign of canid scent-markers she came across, her eyes bulging in the absence of sunlight there on the caldera, and her breath quickening in anticipation for what she was doing.

Despite her indomitable spirit, it couldn't be helped that she craved company. Even if she might have pursuers. She felt no eagerness to be dishonest about that, but continuing on as such had become less and less viable as the days wore on her, dragging her down further into an abyss that almost made her miss home. And no wolf in their right might would accept another wolf with potentially dangerous baggage.

Anxiously shaking away the weight of her woes, she called for company into the dark sky, hoping it wasn't too late out, or the pack too far, to hear her.

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