Lion Head Mesa Running is a victory

The wind brought Pipit the scent of a stranger nearby, and just as she had started to sing a slower, sadder melody, her mouth snapped shut and ended the cold tune abruptly. She cast her mis-matched gaze out into the dark, her nose wrinkling and her whiskers twitching as she felt through the unknown for her unseen guest. It was the eyes she found first— a pair of warm amber pearls hanging against the black backdrop of night like distant twin suns. It was the only light she could find on the earth in this moment, and she gravitated towards the shine like the archetypical moth to the proverbial flame.

"Hello?" she called out, padding slowly nearer as she tried to discern if the dark figure was yet friend or foe.