Morningside Cuesta summer flame

It was not often that Damascus took pity on her prey. This wasn't so different, although she did look upon the doe and muse to herself about being in a similar predicament. If the doe was meant to fight back, it would be well equipped. The natural order required that the weak bowed to the strong, and in this life-or-death race, the doe would lose out. She did not pity the creature, then, but wondered what it would be like if the roles were reversed. She paced just beyond where her companion rested as she was eager to get things over with, and then stopped, letting the idle thoughts slip from her mind. It mattered little. A wolf did not care for the opinions of sheep, and all that.

Damascus, she responded finally, her ears pivoting to catch the sound of Sunspot's voice. The run had been exhilarating. It was the most thrilling thing to happen to the woman since her exodus from her old home - and with much better company. They could wait out the doe; both the predators knew this, and likely the doe would come to the same conclusion soon. So Damascus stood in wait, tense, eager, but in good spirits. She resisted the urge to begin panting despite needing the oxygen, trying to uphold an appearance of strength before this new ally. It was a good hunt - er, a good run I guess. Where did you come from?