Stone Circle rabbit heart

she's tresspassing!

the sound of her ragged breath, glimpses of trees, snow, light and dark. always checking behind her, desperately hoping he's not decided to make good on his promise. the pounding of her paws on the snow, of her heart, of the cut across her chest where she'd fallen down the rock. dread and a deep, ugly sense of wrong. 

a border; she crosses it without a thought, making directly for the center. borders mean packs means safety, here, it'll be alright, here—stop, gag, try to vomit again. she's already emptied all the content of her stomach. the absolute terror is faded, not as much by the distance she'd placed between herself and the man but instead sheer exhaustion. she stumbles onward.