Ankyra Sound untimely

The dark forest of black-pine afforded her cover in the way that the dense foliage of the hinterlands had, that fateful night upon meeting Phox. She'd been running for as long as she could, as hard as she could, burning her lungs and not letting anything get in her way — the beast that had taken her from the plateau was hot on her heels, or so she thought. The woman was in a panic; all she could see were the images of the men fighting. All she could taste was the minerality of blood on her teeth.

Even when the forest rose up to engulph her, Camilla did not stop. The massive sequoias gave way to pine trees and she tried to keep running, not knowing that penetrating the forest would lead her in to danger (nor that the edge of the world sat just beyond, beckoning to her). The woman struggled; her legs were burning and siezing, but still she dragged at the earth and fought to stand and keep going. Her bumbling could easily be misconstrued as a wounded doe or some such thing, and she was thin enough to meet that mark. It didn't matter. She had to keep going, he would catch her —

He would catch her, he would kill her — just like — Phox, Camilla gasped as she inhaled a stale breath. She fought her way between some twisting roots and began to curl herself up again, hide herself in as compact a shape as she could manage, but her adrenaline was wearing off and she was so tired. She managed one crescent before her hindquarters gave out entirely, and held in a whine as she gathered herself in to a ball within the dark.

Around her the world swam.