Sunspire Mountains bad girls do it well

When her green eyes fell over the intricate scar that patterned over the brutish male's face, there was no flicker of recognition—and just barely one of curiosity. Just as quickly, however, Zombie's eyes fell away. She meant no challenge, especially not towards a wolf that would surely destroy her if she had the chance. When he mentioned the plateau, she stiffened instinctively—she did not know him, but he knew something of her. Zombie felt very suddenly like she was prey, a feeling that would not sit well with any wolf. She found herself regretting leaving the safety of the plateau, and hated it. The mountainous walls that once felt protective now felt foreboding and threatening. Her muscles tense, and she bravely fought the urge to run.

"I think you have it wrong," she told him flatly, "The monsters are stalking me." Zombie was always the victim; it was a role she had grown accustomed to and comfortable in. She didn't control her life. Life was just something that happened to her. If she had known what the large male's words truly meant—that he was accusing her of tracking him—she might have laughed at the sheer absurdity. She had not yet reached her second year, and would not until summer; and her form was still half-starved and lanky. Zombie was only just clinging to life, only barely surviving.