Deepwood Weald Run; As Your Life Depends On It

His pleasurable words make her ears face him like radars. Oh sweet. She thinks fleetingly a devious smile slithering onto her maw. “Oh.” She says teasingly. “I can’t like both?” She asks, a tilt of her head. Then bravely she says “Oh don’t be afraid, you still can.” She flirts effortlessly. “If we don’t get eaten.” She chirps out nonchalantly.

Then with her place on the rock her golden eyes scan the horizon desperately for the plus sized feline. He asks her a question and says her name so pleasantly it almost distracts her. She hums thoughtfully. “I couldn’t tell ya.” She says as if deep in though, still throughly dissecting the landscape before her. 

Then the smallest of movement out of the bottom right of her peripheral catches her undivided attention. No. She says internally. The crouched form of the feline can be seen merely 40 feet away from them and she just about passes out.

“Abaddon.” She whispers, desperation laced into her voice, rooted in place. “The cat is following us. It’s right fucking there.” She nods her chin over in the general direction. “We can’t run, it’ll catch us. What do we do?” She pleads for him to answer. For she doesn’t quite know how to help him. She’s too small and weak to fight it off and though she’s fast, she can’t outrun a cougar. She’s worried for the male more than herself, she might have a possibility of hiding due to her dark coloration and small body but this neatly Wolf is ghost white and huge! How would she even help him if it attacked?