Bearclaw Valley Why is the raven like a writing desk?

She wasn’t going to make it that far. The certainty came to her when fangs bit into the tendons on her right hind leg, cutting them deeply. It was a miracle she wasn’t snared in full, though her luck held for less than a second. More teeth scored her flank. She kept running but the two predators were closing in from either side and Druid didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of fighting against them. She was going to die. She screamed wretchedly.

Then the onslaught suddenly stopped as the hunters fell back. Druid did not look back, slow down or stop as their ghastly figures vanished from her flanks. She galloped for the far side of the glade, toward the downs, the grove and Rivenwood beyond, aware that she was only alive at the mysterious whims of her terrifying pursuers.