Barrow Fields blood and wine

Cat and Calf, deliver me, she prayed, one last time before he cleared her mind completely. The wolves were slinking toward her, now, but she had to stand tall and still until her friend was out of sight, out of mind. She just had to wait a little longer, stall a bit more, wiggle her flank just-so...

And... now! she thought, darting off with a frightened warble. She ran as fast as she could, her back legs kicking viciously whenever a bit of grass or stiff breeze brushed past them. Wolves can run faster than moose, she knew. Still their limbs, Calf. Protect me. But even as she prayed, she waited for sharp canines to bury themselves in her flesh. She might be able to kick them off, in their famished state, but there were never garuntees. And even if she did loose them from her, the damage would be done - she'd have serious wounds, if not outright missing limbs. She'd be weak and vulnerable - so much that even Artemis might want to eat her, no matter how kind she'd been.

She desperately hoped she could evade them entirely, but even so, she readied herself for a fight.