Morningside Cuesta [m] vieja

she did not. but it no longer mattered. silvertongue had made a choice when she had run, and now she lay looped in its consequence. yet she was not within his jaws, and that counted as a victory. "vete al infierno!" she seethed up at him, releasing small paws from her earthen grip and plummeting into the morass of round boulders below. her only regret was that her fall had not been tall enough, a realization made when she blacked out for a moment, only to gasp to consciousness. new bruises welted beneath her skin. but now the drop was between he and she, and silvertongue tried to crawl to her feet, coughing on soil and her own pained ribs.