Lion Head Mesa Running is a victory

After having her feelings unintentionally hurt in the valley of the rising sun, Pipit ran for days. She stooped on occasion to accommodate for her exhaustion and to take care of her other necessary faculties, but besides these brief pauses, the little wolf pressed on in full flight mode. She had no destination, no home to speak of, and the weight of her loneliness threatened to crush her into sullen oblivion as it had previously for the better part of this dreary year. She had escaped it for a moment, but the happiness had been so fleeting, she thought she might never feel the same again after being unable to seduce her company into abandoning responsibility for longer than an hour.

She felt as if she had lost her touch— lost her charm— in all that time she'd spent alone, but running made it easier to forget her woes. And the further she went from the Downs, the more physically distant the memory seemed, the better she began to imagine herself feeling. She had left massive mountains behind her, and the flatlands had occupied her journey for the past two days, but suddenly she found herself approaching a lone peak. It was not nearly as mighty as the slopes she had grown accustomed to seeing, but it gave her something to aim for.

Night was nearing by the time she reached it, and as the stars began to pucker up one by one, Pipit took the opportunity (in her supposed solitude) to sing them a song. She howled into the purpling sky, crooning "star light, star bright" in a wistful manner as she fed the heavens her wish for company.