Porcupine Ridge Some prefaced with ZYR-OHT-OHT-MET

Little as she was, The Anathema carried strength in her stout frame, her thick limbs. She didn't look back at her sister as she threw all her weight against Hex with both forelimbs in a bid to knock him to the ground. In the same motion she lunged to lay her front half across his flank, letting her grip on his ruff fall away in favor of digging her elbows into his ribs.

We're leaving, She panted, aware she couldn't hold him for long. Not alone. You'll come, or - or we'll make you. Here her gaze finally flicked briefly back to Accipitra, hoping to find assent in the dual-toned eyes of her sister. Or at least understanding. She would explain later, of course.

After Hex was safe.