Walkin' around singing the blues in bright red Jimmy Choos

The wolf flew away from her, and Warthog, despite the shooting pain of her leg, gave chase, silent in the manner of her breed. The ironically soft cinnamon of her eyes, notoriously warm in normal circumstances, had darkened with the black hunger of her being, and even as the lupine's form pulled away from her on elegant, tapering legs, the pale visage disappearing into the distance, Warthog ran, cascading her tank of a body after her escaped prey until her strength gave way and she collapsed with an angry bellow.

Presently, the Rottweiler clambered to her feet with a grunt and limped away to find shelter from the biting cold, nursing her injured leg along with a deep and abiding hatred.