Blackfeather Woods Wrong turn

You have my full permission to tackle or do whatever to Ragdoll from here on out, aha.

If he’d been human, his face would have visibly paled as the woman’s words slipped out through grinning lips. He knew what he had done was often viewed as an unforgivable crime by packs, but still he could not help but think she was taking things too far. Perhaps that was due to his want to live, to continue to roam the earth as he’d always done. The boy was not yet ready to meet death, he still had a long life ahead of him. He’d yet to see everything he wished to in the world, and hadn’t even the chance to fall for someone yet. He’d only just recently completed his first year of life, too. The hybrid was young, lacking wisdom in many things still, but there was one thing he did know, something he was certain of—his want to live. “I don’t want to die…” he murmured, voice hardly above a whisper. His pale optics stuck to the female’s form like glue, widened and reflecting nothing but his fear of what the outcome may be.

As she started to advance towards him, that fear grew. It continued to grow and spread, drowning the yearling in his own terrors. Without thinking, Ragdoll turned and bolted. His heart was pounding furiously against his ribcage, and the sound quickly became the only thing he could hear. He didn’t look back as he ran, nor did he pace himself like he knew he should. The boy continued to push his legs faster and faster, not wanting to give the woman a chance to catch him. Every so often he’d trip himself up and stumble a bit, but something granted him the ability to regain his footing before being force fed a mouthful of dirt. Never did he bother to look back, to see if she’d given chase. All he did was hope that he was successful in his escape, and that he would live to see another day.