Overture Downs Let's raise some hell, shall we?

too many things hit indra at once. the overwhelming scent of blood, rising in red iron in her lungs. the apparent drop in temperature, inexplicable as the chill that rode her spine. the plaintive, piteous call -- that somehow was hideous in tune.

counterfeit as it was, indra didn't know better --

and then the RUFF loud and unmistakably nunataq. close.

she lurched forward, seized suddenly by a sickening panic -- was nunataq in danger, had whatever thing hurt that woeful caller also descended upon her?

indra splintered through the brush in time to see nunataq and the dash of a ragged tail. her gaze scanned the limp way it moved, wrong and lifeless despite its carrying movement: and then her gaze set on feral eyes, wide as dinnerplates.. a reflective, chilling green of nocturnal fury flashed back.

"nuna," indra fumbled, her voice a hiss -- "nuna, run."