Flycatcher Downs now that you're done shuffling the tits off the queens

@Indra and @Laurel if you want to come too!

It was one thing when the devils chased him atop the drumming hooves of some animal. It was another thing when they pursued him in some indescribable, flying monster. It snarled so loudly that it deafened him to the world around him, and it carried a savage windstorm beneath its wings which whipped his fur and stung his eyes with thrown snow.

He ran on in fury and in fear, abandoning his trail of Lucy in favor of self preservation. Skwol took to the densest timber he could find, borrowing on the strategies employed by grouse and hares to elude ravenous hawks. It worked. The devils circled him but could not find him, and gradually the wind no longer shook the trees, and the roaring died to a distant ominous drone. Panting for breath, Skwol stared after the demon until he could no longer see the sun glinting off its smooth hide. Only then did he rest briefly — and fitfully, in trembles.

—

He stayed his course for countless hours. Ears plastered to his skull in tension, but springing to life at every sound. His lope was stiff and only just bridled from becoming an energy-devouring gallop. If he wanted to cover ground he had to remain efficient. His determined and single-minded track took him north, away from the direction he had last trailed Lucy in. He had not come so far only to lead devils to another wolf who did not deserve to die by their blood-spattering thunder.

Several times more he heard the predatory hum threaten the landscape, but as the day gave way to evening, the world resumed its natural and comfortable quietude. Skwol stopped at a small creek to slake his thirst by desperate gulps, and then in the snow he lied down and wondered how far he would have to run to escape the evils that sought him so tirelessly.

Until I die, he thought grimly.