Lone Star Mountain fires in mississippi

The pair of wolves she’d been forced to stay with gave her more attention than she’d wanted but, in their newly budding relationship, they also spent time with one another that didn’t involve her. When she became the third wheel, everything turned into a nightmare. She barely remembers the escape, making a whim of a decision while she could, and she’s spent the last several weeks looking over her shoulder. Most of her wounds have healed, though nasty scars have settled in without proper treatment and care but she’d never had time to stop and give them the attention they deserved.
 
She’s come across land that seemed vaguely familiar to her, somewhere beyond the nightmare her life has turned into, but she kept going until she found somewhere she felt was safe enough to rest for more than a few hours. She’s come across few wolves in her travels, avoiding them at all cost—it’s how she’d gotten into this predicament in the first place, isn’t it? Trying to ask a stranger for help that only led her right back into the paws of her tormenter.
 
However, in the mountain she’s taken refuge, dwelling in the depths of the cave near the base of the mountain, her scent has become hard to track when inside. Rarely does she take the chance to go out and, when she does, she’s always surprised by the time of day. It is morning when Siobhan slips out of the darkness near an opening, noting the bright sunlight filtering into the base. Slowly, she takes a step forward and it takes several minutes of anxious glancing back and forth and sniffs of her nose to realize there’s no one nearby that she can sense and eventually she makes it out into the daylight.
 
The sounds of clacking antlers bang overhead and she glances up to see two rams scuffling several yards overhead and a second, lower cliff between she and the small herd that has collected. It takes her by surprise when, with one shove and hooves to close to the ledge, the larger ram shoves the other off the ledge where he lands roughly—and with a crack, she can hear—on the second ledge. It takes several seconds for him to collect himself but he’s not sturdy, unable to keep all four limbs on the ground that he stumbles, losing his balance and slipping off the ledge he’d landed on and taking a tumble down the rocky cliffside.
 
Siobhan’s eyes widen and she moves a few steps forward, glancing around every so often, but she finds the creature unconscious—or dead—and it pulls her closer, her stomach rumbling, to see if her string of bad luck is finally to an end. A meal landing right into her lap is a sign of good things to come, right? She licks her jobs, climbing over a small bolder to the divot in the ground where the ram has fallen, blood pooled beneath him and smeared across her face. She sees no movement of the chest or twitch in limbs and it is then she does not wait, rushing forward to dive face first into her first meal in who knows how long, eating with vigor once she breaks through the outer layer.