Morningside Cuesta enter, pursued by a memory

Jesus. Persia got the impression immediately that Widow must've lived a very sheltered life. Maybe whoever had been feeding her and whoever else was holed up in here was dead. Maybe they didn't ever venture out, and she was only now being driven by hunger.

He eyed her while she wasn't looking. He thought he could take her in her current state. He thought maybe he could take a few of her if it came down to it. He hoped they weren't as hungry as all that, though.

"My legs work fine," he said with forced nonchalance. He was a good actor, but anyone could see that he was a little tense. "Why don't you save your energy and let me do most of the running. I'll hobble it, and then we can take it down together."

Even hobbling a deer wasn't something he usually did alone — but Widow looked like she needed to save whatever fat she had left, and Persia wasn't confident enough in his skills to suggest that she burn it in anticipation of a full meal. And if the first one got away, he'd need her still in fighting shape to take down the next.

They did as she said, threading through the maze in search of a trail. He would've worked faster, normally — and the change today was not all for Widow's benefit. Seeing her had underlined how helpless a wolf could become. He should be conserving his energy, too.

"Here," he said, finally coming across a fresh trail — and fresh scat. "You've hunted deer before, right?" he asked her, sweeping another shrewd glance over her pale, wan form.