Porcupine Ridge saturday night kind of pink

the voice lanced against the rock, made sharper, perhaps, by the altitude. the shadow remains still, until finally, she is able to make out clearly the outline of the girl. she wavers on three limbs, providing perhaps an explanation for her bloodied trail. 

the wraith slips nearer, carefully navigating the cutting rock, pausing once to test a particularly sharp section of her path. when she comes neatly within what she guesses to be the stranger's clear line of sight, she becomes still once again. it is clear to see, here, the way she curls her paw against her chest. a sway of her tail, a sharp flick of her ears, and the shadow moves to perch neatly on her hindquarters. head cants, questioning.