Moonspear Leland just got vaporized by a strange red light

Another low whistle from the marmot was Dragomir's cue. He'd delved so far into his natural hunting instincts that he didn't look sidelong to see if Desdemona was approaching, too; he simply pounced. A second success in a single day was a little too much for a juvenile wolf to ask for, though, and this marmot was more alert than the first. Its head came up the moment his legs sweeped up into the pounce, so it evaded him with ease.

It chose to flee under him, likely hoping to give him the slip, which meant it was headed right toward Desdemona. The moment Dragomir's forepaws struck the pebbly bank, he was wheeling to give chase, but he hoped it wouldn't be necessary. With any luck, his partner would be able to snag it as it fled past her.