run rabbit run (joining)

Bughuul -the name was a one word horror story chilling enough to illicit a full on fit from the adolescent. Of course fear was the absolute last thing that she need squander her limited powers upon, but the response was inescapable. Dove ears bent backwards as a single appeasing whine escaped from her throat -unwittingly begging for her very life in the process.

In this lowest of states she waited for even worse from him, but instead was startled by the intonation of -a stranger? Not immediately suspecting that she had been incorrect in her original assumption of identity Chrysanthemum remained perfectly still. Mostly because she lacked the verve to do much more, but also because she had so very little with which to distinguish normal wolves from the hellhound she so feared. Certainty would require her absolute focus. Erecting her ears so that she might focus them on the sound, it was with expert slight that she also flapped her nostrils to gather in the male's specific aroma.

No -it wasn't Bughuul. Yet, before Chrysanthemum could gather her subsequent thoughts, the moment was bombarded by the sound -and smell of another. Instinctively the youth shifted her head in the female's direction and even attempted to open her eyes. As before though, the effort was useless and only brought her closer to her next episode of involuntary syncope.

Unable to defend herself against whatever unknowns the wolves had planned, the little prisoner resolved to simply focus on her breathing. Squinting her face in spite of the blistering pain, she did her best to ward off the fuzzy edges that were beginning to tinge her reality. Helpless or not she had no desire to fall asleep in front of the mysterious wolves. It was the very last of the rapidly deteriorating dignity. Ironically though, the youth's endeavor was to be unexpectedly aided by the second to arrive.

Still entirely new to her disability Chrysanthemum was uneducated in evening out the differences between her senses. She had never really relied on her sense of hearing or smell before to calibrate proximity and so as unaware when the feminine wolf approached her with the finished concoction. In fact, the small zombie had begun another tumble into the void when the first of the medicine was applied and she was suddenly yanked from her dreaming like never before -and not by the male's kindly offer water.

At first she could only wriggle helplessly on the ground, too pained to even make a sound although her mouth had flown open. Instead, when her moan did finally begin it was just a croak in the back of her throat and then a disjointed high pitch screech to be heard miles around. Riled by the added agony in a way she would have imagined impossible, her body jittered automatically before flopping to the side with her paws turning weakly in the air. It was likely a very cruel thing to have to witness, but as the tears poured from her own surviving eye, Chrysanthemum was hardly concerned with the potentially faint hearted tendencies of her audience. Finally coming to a rest when her energies were truly all gone. She dragged in a low and slow breath, held it, and then exhaled a mess of vomit and tongue.

Unconsciousness was a sure thing now -for which the puppy was morbidly grateful- but before she went, she rolled open her left eye and stared. Surprisingly the look although hard was not without intelligence as it came to rest upon her would be nurse. And although she could not and did not utter a single word, she held onto one through the terribleness of her delusion, Mom-? It was a small but blessed comfort to the girl as she dipped back beneath the surface of the world.