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12-06-2015, 02:05 PM
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She gasps for air, but none fills her lungs. The vixen runs on pale paws, her time is almost up. They’re coming for her, they’ll be here soon. With every step she bounds, the blood from her wounds staining her alabaster fur red. She trips, rolling head over tail through the forest, spattering blood on the trees, the branches, and the grass. The vixen finds her footing, breaking back into her run, though she is slowed even further. The knife she carried between her jaws had been placed hilt down in it’s sheath. She had stabbed herself. But there is no time to waste, the vixen can’t let them get a hold of the knife. Then they’ll know… Her mahogany eyes dart around wildly, rapidly, looking for a solution as she limp-runs around trees and fallen branches. She is almost numb to the pain. Though excruciating, it is no worse than what they will do to her and her family if she is caught. But then she sees it. Her savior. A pale cream figure, large dark wings, and a horn. It is curled up on the forest floor, supposedly sleeping for the night. The vixen’s heart races as she leaps towards the horse, tossing the knife and its sheath at the strange equine. The vixen does not wait for the horse to say something. “Take it,” yelps the vixen, turning to leap in a different direction. She does not wait around for the horse to say anything, she simply uses her last bit of strength to flee. She will run till she dies. The white vixen then vanishes into the night, never to be seen again. |
