Hoshor Plains gift vid första ögonkastet

Oh, fuck, Towhee thought, I’m fucked.

Nevertheless, she persisted.

Fuck off! she roared over her shoulder, head whipping around to face forward as adrenaline began flooding her veins.

She didn’t stumble or slow—she sped up, if anything—but she was still an aging wolf trying to outrun a creature capable of leaping 40’ horizontally and 20’ feet vertically, regardless of their respective top speeds. It was only a question of how soon Towhee would fall into the critical danger zone.

The Redhawk’s legs protested as she pumped them, propelling herself toward the Sunspires. If she could reach their rocky terrain before the mountain lion caught up to her—or, gods forbid, pounced—then maybe Towhee could stuff herself in a cave or a hole or something.

She didn’t make it. The fur on Towhee’s spine stood on end two seconds before something soft but heavy hit her from above with breathtaking force. Her legs buckled as she crumpled beneath the cat’s full body weight, the sting of its hind claws sinking into the old scars near her hips as one of its forepaws slammed into her head, shoving it toward the dirt. The other struck at her face too, slashing the right side of it.

Her vision went briefly red, then black, as Towhee now half-blindly struggled to escape the cougar’s clutches.