Emberwood wondered, then, what freedom meant

there comes a hellion loosed, and she is not so bold, or so stupid, to face it. unkempt fur, yellowed fangs, and gimlet stare burning with ire where at the fore of the charging brute. she whirls, with an odd grace not unlike a dancer that for a fleeting moment seems careless, easy. 

and then they adopt those time-worn roles of hunter and chased, and she is but a low-borne shadow slung near to the earth, tail curled close to her hock and auds pressed flat against her skull. in a famine, however, sacrifice is a prerequisite to survival, and in her bid for survival she has failed to cling to previously held endurance, agility. 

stumble, and falls.