Cerulean Cape godly ichor

it is chaos; the thundering of paws beyond their sister's and their own.

at first, it is startling. the saint's ears splay flat against their skull, teeth bared; clicking together as spittle flies from their lips with each pant.

quickly!

the adults have the advantage on them and the thundering of paws pounding against the ground tell saint there is several in pursuit.

and several ahead!

they stop; skidding, kicking up small pebbles and leaving a cloud of dust as strangers approach.

hackles bristle along their spine; uninviting.

but they speak the name! the name! their name!

saint!

and they respond to the words of whispers meant for their sister.

a glimpse is spared towards anathema.

but not a glimpse spared back.

a tremble in their lips before they push forward, following the sweep of ptolemy's paw, though he is a stranger to them.