Ankyra Sound untimely

The dark forest of black-pine afforded her cover in the way that the dense foliage of the hinterlands had, that fateful night upon meeting Phox. She'd been running for as long as she could, as hard as she could, burning her lungs and not letting anything get in her way — the beast that had taken her from the plateau was hot on her heels, or so she thought. The woman was in a panic; all she could see were the images of the men fighting. All she could taste was the minerality of blood on her teeth.

Even when the forest rose up to engulph her, Camilla did not stop. The massive sequoias gave way to pine trees and she tried to keep running, not knowing that penetrating the forest would lead her in to danger (nor that the edge of the world sat just beyond, beckoning to her). The woman struggled; her legs were burning and siezing, but still she dragged at the earth and fought to stand and keep going. Her bumbling could easily be misconstrued as a wounded doe or some such thing, and she was thin enough to meet that mark. It didn't matter. She had to keep going, he would catch her —

He would catch her, he would kill her — just like — Phox, Camilla gasped as she inhaled a stale breath. She fought her way between some twisting roots and began to curl herself up again, hide herself in as compact a shape as she could manage, but her adrenaline was wearing off and she was so tired. She managed one crescent before her hindquarters gave out entirely, and held in a whine as she gathered herself in to a ball within the dark.

Around her the world swam.

I don't want to RP with myself LOL but he'd probably notice her crazy ass and alert someone so — CAMEO!

He was freshly tended to by someone — there was fresh paste of some form on his newest wounds, and a swagger to his already awkward stride that indicated he'd not been as fortunate as others following the assault upon the cliffside pack; but Firefly wasn't thinking about any of that.

He wasn't supposed to be up right now — doctors orders — but his attempt at sleep was interrupted by the sound of a commotion and, thinking it was the wolves of the cliffs come to retaliate, he thought to raise an alarm. He lurched to his feet but was slow in his ascension — the paths were familiar, but his body wasn't so eager for the adventure, thus when Firefly reached the top of the ridge and could finally look around, the movement had all but stopped.

The warrior paused a few times as he investigated (mostly to silently complain to himself, call himself an idiot, etcetera), but his attention zeroed in on a fresh trail leading — ah, of course — to the forest. He gave a cursory look around and then began to make a retreat, but paused again, and called out as softly as his rough voice could manage to the nearest passerby — Hey. Hey, c'mere, I think someones in there. And he motioned with his snout at the trees.

the savage young thing had found himself in a surly mood since their retreat from the cliffs. he had not thought that the wolves up there would have fought so cruelly – that they would have had so many of them focus on the youngest of the rusalka group. he hadn't been able to get the image of his traitor brother out of his mind since they had left, and he wondered sourly how they could reach ephraim again without pulling the whole cliff down on top of them. surely, the foul brutes up there would not have hesitated to kidnap another of their members.

so, illidan did what he could to keep a constant patrol on the sound. he was injured, but he still moved with purpose and care as he made his way around the edge of the pack. his eyes would wander up to the jagged rocks of drageda without intention and he would have to force himself to focus on his task: protect the sound. he did not think the enemy was brave or courageous in their efforts – they were sneaky and foul, and they did not deserve what they had.

so, when the sound of firefly's voice suggested that someone had entered their pack, illidan had rushed to the blackpine as quickly as he could. once there, he caught the scent of a stranger and furrowed his brow tightly over the sharp yellow of his gaze. with a surly expression, the wildling prowled into the woods in search of the stranger who had invaded their home. when he caught sight of her hunkered form, he should have felt pity, but instead he felt anger at anyone who was so bold as to cross the line into their claim.

“you are not where you're supposed to be,” the dark-hooded man snapped in a grim tone.

She wouldn't be caught off-guard again, as tired as she was. When the sounds of voices filtered through the trees towards her, she began to unfurl; then, as a figure slipped between the trees and came towards her hiding place, she was on her feet. He crowded towards her and claimed she as in the wrong place — always, always, in the wrong place! — and Camilla felt the twinge of fight-or-flight quake through her limbs again. She wouldn't be able to outrun this wolf if she brought his ire, and rather than tempt fate further she did the next best thing — bolting at him, around him, stumbling and sprawling with spidering strides until she was a blur of silver in the dark, careening out from the pines and away from him towards the west again.