Barrow Fields these are the last blues we're ever gonna have.

As try as she might, her feet do not carry her fast enough. Never really built for speed, her short legs carry her until two of them leave the ground. One of the birds use his claws to grip her by the shoulders and with all its might, lift her a little into the air. It mostly disorients her, the pain shooting into her back, but she weighs too much to do other than slip out of the grasp. The claws dig into skin as she sinks into the ground, surging forward to get away, but the sight of another wolf running straight for her catches her off guard.
 
Nox stumbles a little but she keeps going, uncertain where to really go as the other has the intent to zero in on her. “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?” she screeches then when claws grip her again, this time digging into her hips, she takes a face full of snow and tumbles unceremoniously to the ground.