Blackfeather Woods It's not like you're unpredictable

She didn't get far before she felt hot breath against her hind legs. Wildfire cried out and tried to increase her speed, but she just couldn't shake her pursuer. A moment later, she felt fangs graze over the tendon in her left fetlock. Before she could squeeze out another cry, a weight sprang atop her, forcing her entire posterior to the ground. She crumpled beneath "I's" weight, her right hind leg twisting unnaturally beneath her as she slammed to the ground with yet another cry, this one strangled by pain shooting through her leg.

"Get off me!" she spat, writhing out from underneath "I." But she didn't start running again. Wildfire didn't even leap to her feet. Instead, she moaned when she bent to inspect her paw. She couldn't be sure if it was broken or merely sprained, yet it was bent oddly and hurt something awful. When she touched her nose to it, she hissed through her teeth. She knew that if she tried to stand and put weight on it, it would snap—if it hadn't already.

Although despair washed through her and tears swam in her chestnut eyes, they blazed when she looked up at "I." Her fate was more or less sealed now. But she would stop hoping Drageda would come to rescue and avenge her. Instead, she would hope the opposite: that they would never find her and get involved with these murderous sociopaths. Hopefully they'd just think she'd gotten lost or, hell, even abandoned them. Wildfire's lip quivered as tears spilled silently down her dirty cheeks.