Haunted Wood a fearful devotion to a place without shape

She had nothing that he had to prepare her for it. She did not know these woods like the back of her own paw, she did not have whatever experience he might have hidden away and most certainly she did not possess his raw strength.

The cold, hard earth would be her only cushion. She would, whether she tried to fight it or not, be overcome by him. If he kept her below his mass she would only offer a peel back of her lip to expose teeth. Not of aggression or defensiveness. It was simple fear. The kind that rimmed her eyes with white.

Even the most desperate minds knew when they were outweighed.