Dragoncrest Cliffs dead men tell no tales

Hex was quick, but he was no match for a man who clearly knew this territory. The fleeing wolf darted here and there, headed toward the ocean at a breakneck pace. He could only do his best to pursue, but by the time the trees fell away and the land leveled out, his quarry was already in the shallows.

And he was not invested enough to chase someone into the goddamn sea.

Shit, he huffed, pulling to a stop upon the rocky shoreline. He was breathing hard, black pelt puffed up from wind and adrenaline. His yellow eyes cut across the horizon, then darted back in the direction from which they'd came.

Screw this, Hex thought to himself as he broke into a reluctant trot, hoping to link up with the crew once more. Even as he did so, his mind raced and his heart ached; he couldn't stomach the thought of seeing that expectant mother captured and corraled. 

He couldn't do this. He shouldn't.

But damned if he didn't obey, anyway.