Kildeer Rest This Race Is a Prophecy

Running. The earth that stung his paws, the air that screamed in his lungs, yet despite all of it Calhoun still pushed forwards. He was far from the danger now, far from the death, but he knew this was no place to rest. His home was gone, burned to the ground by what he could only believe as a sign from the High Elk. He had yet to figure out the cause for the act of wrath, perhaps his family had offended him in some way. It was an easy thought to believe, especially when others still freely accepted the witch that walked amongst them.

Finally, a clearing broke out before him as the Déorwine came to a stop with a heaving chest. This could do, it was easy to see the abundance of small life that might provide in the moment. His side ached, the burns that stretched his flank still lit a flame through his skin at each movement, but resting to heal wasn't his priority. He had to find the High Elk. He had to find...his family...if any even lived. It was a pleasure to believe some made it out, but it would be foolish to cling to that thought. Still, he couldn't help but let his eyes scan his new surroundings with the light hope that clung to him.