The low thundering of the elk's hooves was enough to send tremors through the earth and rattle Leera's bones. Still, she threw herself after them in drunken chase, undistracted by their obvious strength.
There were times she believed she had owl's wings, times when her paws barely even kissed the ground as she ran, leaving her body to float through the air. Now was one of those times, and a quick sideglance in Nephthys' direction told her that her counterpart was doing well; they successfully funneled the herd into a tight gathering, each wolf pressing in from opposite sides. Now, they were playing a waiting game. A challenge of stamina.
Eventually, an older cow started to hang back. Her crooked, slowed loping told Leera that she was likely injured. She let out a series of yips to Nephthys, communicating in that primal, wolfish manner that she used whenever instinct washed over her, letting her partner know that the target had been acquired.
Leera is a mature character.
Force/violence is permitted within reason.
Plot with us here!
