Ghost Lion Crag Paint the colors on top of the sunset

The fevered haze that gripped her kept her from finding her way home, but it couldn't shut down the instinct that kept driving her to travel further.  If she did not find something she would die without help, and even her infection-addled brain knew the truth of it.

She'd tended her hind leg as best she could, but it was a swollen, stiffened mess.  She'd limped towards the only landmark she recognized and knew might meant home... mountains... but they were far from the right ones.  She was too tired to notice until she got to their base and, once there, her only crisis of mind was how she was going to get over them.  She was so tired.

Maybe they could help.  There was a fleeting shape in the periphery of her vision, a familiar wolf.  Teya.  Te... wait!  Plea...  she lunged forward, but stumbled immediately and bit the dust with a choked noise.

I can't....  She rolled onto her side and looked, but there was nothing on the slope.  She tried to get to her feet, but her legs wouldn't do it.  Now the shadow was nearby and it felt larger.  Towhee?

Donn Fírinne -  It had to be the dark one. The stories her mother had told and sang slipped and twisted in her mind, but she couldn't feel comforted. The shape meant death and she wouldn't go. She bared her teeth at him, a creature of darkness that only existed in her perceptions, and a desperate laugh began to spasm unhinged in her chest.  Fuck. I thought he'd be bigger.

Any passerby would only see a wolf, half-delirious, baring her teeth at a bush.