Whitefish River When God is gone and the Devil takes hold

She thundered forward. Both herself and Iqniq were bearish beasts; no doubt slower than any narrower wolf. But give them momentum and a hill, and their weight carried terrible force behind it. Her strides were long, but even so, Iqniq was picking up his speed. She heard his paws drum behind her, one ear rotating around and cupping before swiveling forward again.

The area beside the stream was largely open land. The only thing for her to do was keep following the bending waterbed, moving in its path with a waving tail as she galloped forward, blending in with the darkness perfectly find and following her nose and her ears in her path forward. There were trees around them, but not in their line of path after they had  moved through them, in a perfect clearing now.