Hoshor Plains I've got a hundred thrown out speeches

She felt the wind whipping by her face, coursing across her chest and down her back, buffering against her—likely doing so if she ran or not, as the prairie often had sharp winds—so Ibis' sense of self became swept up in that same wind. All she could hear was the bluster of air in her ears. All she could feel was the earth beneath her paws and the seamless touch of momentum. Then there came a rival thundering alongside her; heavy steps, someone in pursuit maybe, which made her remember where she was and why.

A little bit embarrassed for letting herself get carried away, she arcs her path so that she can turn wide and look upon the creature chasing after her. She notices it is a man, swarthy and rugged, and certainly older than herself. He is not familiar-but he must be a part of Kaistleoki, and that warrants a small dip of the head and a smile. Hello, she tries to say, but finds her breath is coming in deep pants due to the sprint. It takes a moment for Ibis to collect herself. She is unkempt; wisps of fur framing her wind-burned cheeks.