The Sunspire a man of words and not of deeds

She was pleasantly surprised at how well the charred tripod kept up behind her. It crossed her mind to speed up, just to see where his limits lie, but Exousia was hyperaware of her own impending overextension and the fact that she had already been on the chase for quite a while at this point. Perhaps it was for the best. She certainly would not make any allies by being her usual spiteful self; she had to keep in mind that her own arrogance had been the cause of her recent excommunication.

Her mind worked quickly to determine the role that was better suited for a wolf with his disability. Would he work best as an anchor to pull down their prey or as a preoccupation while she did the deed? She decided on the latter, under the (incorrect) assumption that he wouldn’t have the strength.

Ahead of them, the buck was slowing down considerably. Blood loss, on top of the unending flush of adrenaline, seemed to finally be catching up to the horned mark. At some point, he became aware that one pursuer had become two, and he grunted repeatedly in effort and desperation, attempting to charge through the agony.

We have him! Exousia called in an excited, breathless shout over her shoulder. Take the left and get his attention. She surged forward, to the right, angling herself like a whetted stone arrow towards a position where she could grab their quarry’s neck when his attention was diverted.