Morningside Cuesta [m] vieja

with great effort silvertongue clambered to her paws, weaving on weary legs. the run had gone out of her, washing from her flesh as if it were water. but the fight was not gone from silvertongue; knowing she could run no more only whirled her with a harder flash of teeth toward the pursuer. as he slithered down the earthen cliff, melding with the long shadows cast by large stones, she watched the night slowly swallow him. keeping her ground, she snarled a low note into the slipping gloom, promising a fight for as long as breath was in her lungs. for her children. for the qeya. for wren.