Redhawk Caldera Betting on the bull in the heather

As she seized her opportunity, Whip could feel the air change. 

She was a rocket, burning bright and red in the peripheries of Whip's vision. It was with effortless grace that the pushed past him, and it left Whip reeling. Mouth agape and tongue lolling, Whip weaved himself into the trail she blazed. Paws dug deep into the earth, casting swathes of upturned snow in his wake, and he quickened his pace until muscles screamed and breath ran ragged. His body compelled him to stop, yet his spirit demanded more.

She cut a fast path along the ridge-line and Whip did his best to keep up. A mirthful growl slipped his lips, yet he found it soon silenced as trouble seemed to appear on the ridge. The welcome wagon had come, and it didn't look particularly hospitable.

Ears falling flat against his head, Whip skidded to a stop. A tentative paw was raised, ready to take flight, as looked upon the stranger looming aggressively in the distance with great caution. He canted his head and watched with inquisitive intent before signaling that he wasn't looking for any trouble with an amicable wave of his tail.