Golden Glade the escape

The teeth never came, but maybe that was part of the trick. Maybe this one was waiting for her to drop her guard before he would strike. When he opened his mouth (it was a slight movement, but she was so keyed in to her surroundings and fixated on his face that she couldn't miss it) Camilla thought, here they come. At the very least he would call out and she would be done for. Her husband would find her, and her world would become small again. When the wolf did speak, it was with a low and careful tone, and there wasn't a trace of aggression. Don't trust it, it's a trick, her mind chanted back at her.

There was stillness then. A tension that she could feel as readily as she could sense her thundering pulse. He made no move for her and when no other bodies came to aid him, Camilla finally broke her gaze away from the stranger in fits; she looked to the forest at his flank, she looked the other way, moving only her eyes in a manner that was almost comical had she not been so afraid. Then, finally, she unfurled herself and slunk from her roost upon the knuckle-shaped roots. Her hips protested from the extended stay in one contorted position for so long. Her limbs almost buckled beneath her wraith-like figure but she remained composed long enough to snake her way through the dark.

The girl moved in a wide crescent, lifting her paws only as far as she had to and keeping herself low despite her natural height. There wasn't a sound from her as she moved, not even from her steps, but she didn't lift her gaze from him again until she felt the cool winter air caress her cheek. She closes her eyes. Takes a deep breath, and doesn't smell anyone familiar. This wolf isn't affiliated with The Company. It is not her intention to affiliate the scent of the plateau pack with freedom but that's what happens - her mind connects this stranger and his unique scent to this moment, and it is perfect.

But then something moves in the forest, something snaps. Her eyes are open and doe-like and livid with the prospect that freedom would be given to her and then taken away — no, no, no, she won't go back — I -- I need -- she speaks quickly but softly too, grimacing at the sound of her own voice and the layers of memory telling her to shut the hell up — I run, I — he — he coming, he kill me —  please, help me said those eyes.