Mount Everfall To bring the pieces back together.

The voice of the ocean was still in her ears, the crashing of the waves and the howling of the wind — but the sea was behind her now, a strange force that frightened and awed simultaneously, and Camilla wasn't going to stop or turn back. She was slow to progress through the woods, though. The ever-present fear of being found was almost too much for her haggard spirit. What if the man was still here? What if he was following her, ready to destroy her in some way? She could think of the many ways he'd promised to hurt her; the oaths of men were violent and pitiless.

She found a path through the trees that became more steep as she went, and as she came to a personal limit she had to stop and take stock of her situation. Either she continue, hungry and tired and drained of all things, this husk, and let the season kill her — or she fight, and find her way home. Even if @Phox had been killed (which was a dreadful thought and one Camilla couldn't shake from her mind), she had nowhere else to go.

After a moment to rest and collect her thoughts, Camilla found that her limbs did not want to move. She was quaking where she had stopped, and slowly crumbled in to a pile of tired parts upon the earth, where sleep threatened to take her. Sleep or something worse, she couldn't fathom what was happening — was she tired? Was she dying? But either way, was there any point to life without the boy with her? The woman drew a few shuddering breaths and loosed a mournful little note, and it lilted through the trees like some kind of funeral dirge.

Phox had continued to venture out beyond the plateau, returning home each night empty handed. His sleep schedule was all out-of-whack, and his normal hours were shot to hell. He had no idea where the beast had taken her, nor where he should be looking, but he couldn't give up. Doing so would have meant going back on his promise, and he told himself he would never do that again. Breaking a promise had nearly cost him his relationship with Towhee, and losing Camilla in a similar way was too close to deja vu for him to accept.

He had been searching aimlessly near the river when he heard her call, and he could scarcely believe his own ears. He froze in place, letting the call sink in and blinking to try and see if he had imagined it or if he was dreaming. Neither seemed to be true, so he called back, indicating that he would be there soon.

Phox's face was still a mess, but it was healing well enough under the care of @Raven. The rest of him was back in peak condition, and he raced toward the sound of her voice as quickly as he could. Eventually, he found her. She looked as broken as she had before, and he rushed forth with a whimper, licking her cheek eagerly. No words were needed, at least not now. She was safe.

Camilla's voice crackled like the dying embers of a fire, and when her weeping call faded there was a stillness. A calm, descending and overwhelming, while she waited for the end — her end —

But there came a crashing, shaking, violent conflagration that roused her from her stupor; she stared at the dirt at first, ears slicked, until the sounds drew closer and the quiet moment became something different — panicked, but without the capacity to react properly, Camilla could barely stand before she was falling again, feeling a body collide with her's.

She thought she'd feel teeth next; she thought the angry giant of a man had found her and certainly, his rage would consume her. Instead of teeth there was tenderness. His scent hit her first but didn't register immediately; her eyelids fluttering, breath hitching in her chest, until she drew back from his touch and got a good look.

Phox— but he was — he was — Y-you're okay, she gasped in awe, and burrowed against him greedily.

Trying to make this thread a priority!

"Okay" was probably the right word for it, as Niamh had pointed out before. He wasn't "great"; that much he knew. Still, with Camilla safe, he did feel better. She seemed relatively unharmed, and she was alive. You too, he said softly, checking her over. The wound on his face was slowly healing, although the fur had yet to grow back over the spot where the other large black wolf had nearly ripped his face off. It was a miracle his eye hadn't been taken with the rest of the flesh.

Unwilling to believe that she was magically safe from her captor, he backed off the smallest increment and scanned the area. Is he still here? Is he following you?

The woman hummed happily as she burrowed against his dark shape, and protested with sharper sounds when he withdrew to look her over; before long she was stuck against him again, unwilling to be parted for too long, warm and physical and alive. She felt the thumping of her heart and thought she heard his too, thundering, and if she concentrated it seemed like they beat in tandem. His warmth spread to her with every nuzzle of her snout, graze of her cheek against his shoulder, whatever. It collected in the pit of her belly and made her skin feel like it was being lightly electrified.

Is he still here? he asked, looking to the shadows beside her, Is he following you? Then the shadows behind himself, vigilant and ready to protect her — and Camilla let out a quiet whine, pressing close as soon as she could. I don't know. He.. He went to find food, and I ran. We hurt him. I think.. I-I think he gave up, a lump formed in her throat and she tried to stay composed. If fear took over she'd not be able to speak again, and she needed to say something -- I think I'm okay. You -- you saved me. I...

She was shaking now, the adrenaline spike from their reunion beginning to wear off and her body protesting more and more. She was exhausted, and didn't know what else to say besides, I — We — we're okay now.

We hurt him. "Good," thought Phox. The bastard deserved it for what he had done to Camilla (and him). She thanked him, in her own way, for saving her. He wouldn't have couldn't have done anything else. He had promised to keep her safe, and somehow he had managed, even if she had been abducted. Camilla looked downright exhausted, and he could sense that she was fading quickly. Maybe not to the point that she would expire, but certainly to the point where he didn't want to push or prod her further.

Do you need to rest, or do you think you can make it back to the plateau? he asked. I can keep watch. If the other wolf was still following her, they would have to make a run for it as soon as he appeared. But if not, Phox could stay awake for as long as she needed to sleep and regain some energy.

He was speaking to her again, and she wanted to focus — but she couldn't quite keep up. Her lids began to flutter and she nodded a few times, but caught herself. Her gaze lingered on his lips and she watched him speak, but only made out bits -make it back- as she began to nod off again, -plateau? But already she was drooping, feeling his warmth and the comfort of his presence was enough, coupled with the utter exhaustion from her run and panic. As she murmured some sort of response (which might've been a slurred mess of Greek) which was too quiet really to understand, she plonked against him and was asleep, even as he promised to keep an eye out. After some sleep they could go. For now, sleep.