Deepwood Weald Run; As Your Life Depends On It

Her paws thump quickly against the fern covered ground mixed with a light coating of crunchy snow. Amita’s breath plumes like mist but gets lost behind her in the pitch blackness of the starless night sky. She’s running; running as if her life depends on it, because it does.

There’s no way out of the forest, every which way her golden eyes jump to looks exactly the same. Everything continues to look untouched; as if she’d never even been there. It has her level of panic reaching its max and even she is wondering what to do at this point. Her breathing becomes heavy and fast, she’s tiring; she can’t run forever. Her raven furred chest rises and falls rapidly, ears spinning to try and hear which direction her tormentor comes from. It’s so silent she can hear the slightest of wind bristling the naked branches of the frozen trees above her. 

The fox like wolf stands stock still, canary eyes wide and darting around her surrounding. Large tail swishing with anxiety while she attempts to control her breathing; to calm herself. Even she doesn’t usually get this afraid. She can outrun half the animals she’s ever come across but this one is different, it’s much much faster than her. The only thing keeping her alive right now is the thick mist circling the endless thicket of forest she’s found herself in.

Where any other situation she could manipulate or trick her way out, this cat is right on her tail and she can’t shake it. Then she hears the rustling of foliage, the hair along her spine raises as she slowly looks behind her. Merely ten feet away a pair of yellow eyes much like her own glare right back at her. So round and focused; focused on her. Then a second goes by where they lock eyes and no one moves, until Amita is able to force her shaking body into a dead sprint.

She’s running again.