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

Donovan watches as the dexterous shewolf is sprinting forth beside the herd and he’s trying his best to keep up. Damn those legs of hers. Well, he has good legs but they’re basically meat sticks. Good for strength but nothing else. He needs to work on his cardio too, like damn. 

Either way, he’s eventually catching up and he butts his way straight through the center of the herd. Succeeding in knocking down one of the male goats by aggressively brushing his shoulder with its hindquarters. Dirt goes flying and a few others are caught bounding over their fallen counterpart, some even tripping over him. But he already has a target and Leigh has her teeth sunk into the fawn already. 

His eyes shift a bit to the left and he can see the wide eyes of the mother as he veers towards his hunting partner. He’s catching speed, completely ignoring the shooting pain in his leg, and snap a quick bite to the mother’s hip to distract her. It works and he’s rushing up to take a bite of the fawn as well. Snatching it up by the back of the neck. His bite isn’t hard enough to kill yet, he’s just holding. 

He begins forcefully slowing them down as the herd separates around them, sprinting past. The mother hesitates but initially knows that she cannot save her child. Fitfully she’s joining the remaining members of her family. Leaving her fawn to the wolves.