Slower. She panted heavily as she weaved through the scarred sentinels. Her breath clouded before her as she picked her way through the remains. All life was decimated from the woods, first from fire then by the bone-chilling snow. Her ears pricked. The quietness seemed to radiate around her in pulsing waves. Her head hurt.

Looking around, she wondered if there was a stream nearby. Whatever, she snapped up some snow hidden in the shade and continued. She was feeling a bit better, her heart was slowing and her muscles didn't feel like they were on fire anymore. Her throat still hurt, as did her lungs. The female wasn't about to admit she was nearing the end of her prime. Aw hell no, she wouldn't admit it until she was beat and down...she was beat today. Hard. Shit...Flicker looked to the sky and wondered what her future would be. She wasn't old by any means, just slower. Perhaps she'd have to get out more.

The chuff startled her, pivoting to face the the stalker with her gaze ablaze, lips writhing up instinctively to warn off the other. Golden eyes were met with gold. The fire glazed woman took a step back, ears sleeking to the sides.

”What do you want?” her tone was accusing, yet the girl herself had done nothing; it was her pack. ”What are you, a tracker? A scout? A warrior?” the woman was becoming more erratic, her face contorting and torn between running and harming the other. Her pack was part of the intrusion, her pack had just tried to force information from her. 

The woman lurched forwards, her legs unnaturally splaying in her half panic. The woman growled, threatening. Her tail curled and the autumn fur rose in her display.
”I did nothing!” she barked.
It was true, it was Llewellyn who first enroached on her land and she’d not hurt him bad. It was defence, and she had every right to attack the golden man. Now, she sought to wreak revenge on the smaller girl. 

The woman again lept forwards, this time moving closer with a snap of her jaws.

It didn't make sense for the wolf to be following her. She had to be a spy, why else would the wolf from the same pack try to follow her home?

Another growl rumbled from her like thunder; a displeased storm with a wildfires heart.
"You displease me,"  she murmured, replicating the whispy but harsh tones of the shadowed man who protected her forest. "What is your pack?" she demanded, a harder tone made of oak. She needed to know, make sure she wasn't bringing the wrong person into a war that wasn't theirs.

Slowly, the woman tried to settle herself, even though she could guess where the brown and white girl came from. The mountain. A rasping voice crossed her mind, whispering sweet nothings in her ear -- but she made something from it.
you can be the queen of the mountain

A sly smirk started to spread her lips before she asked her next question, "What is your name, girl?"

The woman had been proven wrong by the stranger named Speedy. A curious, not so discrete sniff told her otherwise. Oh well, she had to appreciate the lying trade for it was to be her passion.

The woman breathed a heavy sigh, the fur smoothing along her back and the wild anger vanished from her eyes. Her whole form seemed to drop with the wearyness she carried. She dropped her gaze, giving both time to calm, before she again looked up, and started out with an apology. 

”I’m sorry for the misunderstanding, I’m just...shaken by some recent events,” she left out being attacked on neutral land by a pack, ”I tend to be wary at times like this. My name’s Mor.” Good, the lie rolled easily from her lips and she felt no guilt, ensuring her face schooled neutrality. 

Her tail wavered softly, trying to make ammends with Speedy. It couldn’t hurt to try and make friends, even after a rocky start, right?

The woman's ears perked, and a slow smile made it's way to her face, comforted by the woman. She didn't mind the lie she'd told, but it helped settle her nerves, even just for the moment; to cast the illusion that she wasn't to harm her. The peace wasn't to last long.

Her suspicions were correct it seemed, for the gigantic, dark male came crashing along her exact path. Shit, she'd let him catch up. The woman took one look at him and realised that this warrior wanted her blood badly enough to battle any who stood in his way. And that person just happened to be poor Speedy. She'd seen the ravenous look in the eyes of foes enough to know what would come next.

Launching forwards, she met her follower with the flash of ivories and guttural snarl, a wild fury overcame her as it did in the war that befell her Warland. She rose up, hoping he'd do the same or at least slow so she could dive onto him from above. If not, she'd surely be knocked from her feet and forced to grapple with the beast.

He hit his own packmate as she dropped down onto empty air before he realised his mistake and turning to latch onto her shoulder. His grip was, however, weak and fumbling, allowing the woman to pull away with a sharp tug backward, but it still hurt. He reminded her of an impish creature, but with more size and power.

Kicking off from her retreat, she pushed forwards and locked her jaws onto him, aiming for his throat. They were almost evenly matched, his size and power just out-manipulated hers, but she had more experience, it seemed. She grappled her opponent, struggling for the upper hand and to inflict more pain on him; he deserved it.
He was slamming into her, chest against her shoulder. She snarled and fought to keep hold whilst trying to twist her body away from his contact.

Her blood pounded as her teeth dislodged themselves from his body. Her own was being forced down like he were an avalanche until a force knocked out her back leg soon leading to the woman being on her back, front paws flailing upwards to strike his face and protect her throat, her back legs kicking in her panic and fury.

She started screaming in her fury then, hurling insults that not even Flicker's author could write ( and she has a vast vocabulary ), but it remained along the lines of get off me, you ass and I will murder you,  but much more colourful.

But what really poached her egg was the grin. That insufferable grin that she owned and oft threw at her fallen opponents. She threw every once up at the man, teeth snapping like a crocodile to his face and legs kicking to turn her over and get the fuck out. And to run.
So she did, or at least attempted to, and she silently vowed to return and destroy every being the mountain held; innocent or not. They all came from the same place, in Flicker's mind.

She'd broken free, finally. Her face stung as she raced along with a laugh as she realised her attacker had fallen. God, her face really did sting. She should get the wounds looked at, but for now with her new and relished the joy of freedom and let loose a ravens laugh, making a small leap, before pushing into another gear to get her home before any more came to investigate the screaming.

Her aim now to go straight home and tell Relmyna, it would be her duty to. She could also rub in that smug ass of Wintersbane her adventure; but discreetly. She wasn't an angsty adolescent no more. But she was free. The woman doubted that the girl would follow, the wound on her neck looked pretty painful. 
Another laugh revealed her thoughts of the young mercenary.

Soon, she would be back at Blackfeather, and she would sleep for a long while. Or get treated, whatever came first.