Lion Head Mesa infidel

she pursued, slower than the rest—but Toula need not make haste, not as she witnessed her people answer her call. over the turmoil that chilled her came suddenly the warm wash of pride, and Toula moved after them step by step. she was slow to follow, measured, as she considered what might come next, once he was caught. 
the soft click of the nails upon her well-manicured paws that revealed her approach next to the savage snarls of the guardsmen were a strange juxtaposition of sound. but she listened only for the intruder, not yet having arrived to where it was he was then-cornered.