Altar of Twilight A shooting star

The squel broke through though and hunt alike. The dark young figure was filled with fear unlike any he had felt before. The flurry of hooves against the earth felt as though the dirt quaked beneath him. 

One glance toward the stampeding beasts and Crowfeather knew he would be trampled. The dark fur along his neck stood bristling. Honey eyes were wide in shock. One paw was lifted as if in preparation to flee. 

Teeth gripped his nape and all grounding was swept from under him. Crowfeather was pulled from the angry pigs only a heartbeat before their pointed fangs would have pierced him. 

Body tumbled onto the hardened muscle of his silver savior.