Redhawk Caldera Betting on the bull in the heather

With little warming, Whip took flight. 

The stranger was a leggy creature, appearing as if she had been specifically for the purpose of speed. Whip, however, had not been blessed with a similar frame. Weakened by the rugged winter and many months alone, he was far from peak condition. Yet, his current state did little to stop him from cutting a clean line through the deepening snow.

This odd creature who gave chase, Whip did not even know her name -- yet he felt an inexplicable fondness for her. Perhaps it had been her season that spurred Whip to drop his guard. He could not remember the last time he'd ran with a stranger. Nor the last time he had been filled with such joy.

He cast a furtive glance back, peering around his shoulder as he surged forward with renewed vigor. However, after seeing Niamh steadily gain ground, Whip cut right. It was a clumsy evasive maneuver, halting his momentum. Yet, as his sides began to heave with ragged breath, Whip's unconscious desire to be overtaken became clear.