Haunted Wood it's a melody; a battle cry; a symphony

blood seeps into the girl's left eye, bloody tear across her shoulder. her breath sounds too loud to her own ears, her gate swift and clipped and sure. ahead, ungrowth shifts, leaves crunch underfoot. another ragged breath, faster than her own.

I know enough. Lazy. Spoiled. A good for nothing.

the coyote stops, changes direction. it clips right, now, having regained enough of its orientation to know where the borders are. she shifts, gaze finding every flicker of movement, auds thrust forward, frame stiff. 

You believe that life should take it easy on you because your mother passed away.

she charges, low and sure through the undergrowth, pivoting around a trunk tightly and launching herself at the creature's rear. jaws seize flesh, and she wrenches her head violently to the left. something tears, and the coyote arches around with a scream to meet her with his own jaws. her shoulder, again, fur and skin rip away as she abruptly drops back. the coyote lurches forward, moving at a trot now. limping. she, its shadow, following low.