Little Goat Mountain the red string of fate tugs at my heart

The plan seemed to make sense. Usually she'd be a little more skeptical since there were only two of them, but considering Donovan's size, Leigh was sure that the goats would disperse.

And they did just that.

The she-wolf caught sight of the fawn (I can't bring myself to call it a "kid" without laughing to death) as well, matching her companion's stride as she sprinted across the grassy terrain. With her eyes latched onto the small running form, she paced herself, inching closer to the soon to be meal.

Leigh had rested earlier, even longer than she had originally planned thanks to the introduction with Don. But besides a few hours of sleep here and there, the woman had been traveling for months without a proper stop. And she could feel the exhaustion beginning to catch up.

Despite that, Leigh was a wolf built to run. Her small paws scraped up the floor as her long legs carried her forwards. She caught sight of the mother, but she wasn't going to lose her kill from mere intimidation. It was unlikely that she'd get a fatal bite at this speed, so instead the she-wolf opted to simply slow down the fawn.

Opening her jaws and stretching her neck, she managed to land a solid bite on the young goat's hind leg, cautious to avoid any kicks to the face. Her eyes searched for Donovan, hoping that the wolf was nearby.