To the batcave

"That's very respectable," she replied. Participating at all was commendable in her book; she was still stunned that she had placed. "Running" in the race at all had been a strange experience, but she had enjoyed it nonetheless. Thoren. The name didn't ring a bell, but unlike most wolves, he didn't have any problems pronouncing her name. It drew forth another smile. He was polite about her current condition, which she appreciated.

"Bat cave? I think I saw some bats last night, headed this way," she added, padding off into the undergrowth. The light in the sky was beginning to brighten, and she could understand why someone might want a dark refuge after the delights of the festival. Rags herself was beat, but she was able to stay on her paws as they made their way through the tropical plants. "Just a bit further..." The sandy soil was growing loamy and more compact as they made their way towards the center of the island. Just as she remembered, the cave lay a few hundred yards from where she'd seen the bats heading last night. It was craggy and deep with an imposing, dark mouth. Hardly any light penetrated past the entrance of the cave.

Rags tilted her head to the side, then cast Thoren an inquiring glance before entering. Above her head, she heard the quiet noises of bats settling in to sleep. Their wings brushed against each other in a soft, articulate shuffle. Within the confined space, Rags' scent was amplified. She became ever more aware of the smell of her heat and shifted uncomfortably on her paws.