Boartusk Heights I'm lucky I'm not a vampire

Soft paws skittered across bare rock as the agouti wench finally made it to the top of the rise, panting yet still in one piece. With a ragged huff, she heaved her bedraggled form onto a flat rock of sorts and plopped down immediately, exhaustion taking its toll on her malnourished body. Almost out of natural curiosity, she found herself drawing her tongue along the scar that ran the length of her foreleg. It had long since stopped hurting, yet the wolf that had inflicted it would always remain a nightmarish memory. Her father had been a tyrant, one who saw punishment as a way to encourage the wolves lower down the hierarchy to work harder and, even though he had known the caverns were scarce in prey and herbs, he still continued to use the pit to inforce his beliefs. Danni had hated him for it and had fled the caverns the moment she got the chance to. Though the hatred was still there, she couldn't help but feel a slight fear now that she was alone.


With a growl of annoyance, she banished the thoughts away. Now was not the time to dwell in the past, not now that she had a whole new land to call her own. She raised her head, her yellow eyes gleaming with ambition as she tipped her muzzle to the sky and let out a defiant screech of victory, more aimed towards her sire than to anyone local. As the last trails of the cry faded into the winds, a slight smirk played out across her muzzle as she surveyed the view before her eager eyes.