Moonspear make it last before we die

He had to focus. On his speed, where his paws landed, and not exclusively on the looming threat of something potentially very menacing. By the second, he started to feel more like prey--and while they were subtle, and he was not, he sensed them near--and getting nearer. For all he could delight in it (he savored the thrill, and did not face them with any fear in his heart), such carelessness would only make him an easy target for them; he didn't want to lose this by some careless mistake like a misstep or worse.

His ears pivoted carefully, and no longer did he run at his flat-out now that he had openness (as much as the mountain was going to give him here) spanning all around him. Though he kept to a canter, his sides heaved and his jaw hung slack, panting generously as he loped, slower with each stride. He hoped this looked convincing enough--that he was as winded as he hoped to portray, and possibly lure them closer. He kept his senses sharp, just to see what it could turn into.