Broken Antler Fen not the needle, nor the thread, the lost decree

there came movement, and her head whipped around, body falling tense and still as she squinted against the sunspots, which had quickly become infuriating. they danced before her as her muzzle shifted, but did not obscure entirely the dark figure from her gaze. there was something predatory about the figure, something off, but true fear did not settle heavy in her bones until the figure began to gallop. 

she whirled like prey-animal, rear limbs sending her into wild leap before she crashed down onto the ice, limbs working like pistons to propel her into a wild sprint. there came true, wild fear, crashing down and sending shattering her fragile courage, and she dared not look over her shoulder, dared not think as to how the space between them shrank with every wild leap. before her danced the disorienting lights, as if beckoning her away, away, away.