when they come for me

ooc: sorry for the wait!

Whoever said the night was the best time for travelling, fleeing from danger without a trace, surely hadn't experienced the constant terror and fear of having an entire pack after them. Not being able to rest, let their guard down, stay in one place for too long, being too aware of the world around them. A snap of a twig could be an enemy. A rustle in the trees could be an enemy. A lurking shadow could be an enemy. He had to doubt everything, second-guess it. Was it really a paw-step? Was it really the shape of a wolf? No, the night was for hunting.

And he was being hunted.

It seemed he was never alone. They all caught up with him eventually. Whether their faces were of familiarity or not, it didn't matter. He couldn't trust anyone. He had taken that risk on his arrival in these lands, with the woman in the caves. Had she been a mere traveller or an assassin? He would never know, and he wasn't willing to take that risk with any other wolf he encountered. He had to assume the worst. The world was his enemy, and it was coming after him. Only nature was on his side, the flora around him. The forests could hide him, the caves could conceal him, but for how long? Even nature wasn't on his side.

A feminine voice called out to him, as innocent as the rest of them. He didn't stop running. No pause, no hesitation, no looking back. This time he wasn't going to allow himself to be cornered like a rat. He would run, run through the tundra towards the glacier. Maybe she would lose her interest; a rogue wanderer was all she could be. Fat chance. Then he burst through the trees, ebony paws almost slipping on the icy surface. The glacier spread out as far as the eye could see, curving in an irregular shape. Just a sloping blanket of ice and snow. So what did he do? He ran.