What was that feeling again? Oh, right; fear.

It grappled with his mind for control, and in the time it took for the hulking beast to catch up to him, the horned stag had just about lost the battle. His slight frame convulsed with countless tremors, depleting the bay's energy stores in no time at all. He was slowly starting to lower his head to the ground, his actions disobeying his thoughts as his mind shrieked, No! Get up! Run! What the hell do you think you're doing?! but Caenan no longer had the will to fight against his own body. With one last desperate attempt to flee from his assailant, the young'un thrust towards the feline's nose with his horn, his curved dagger barely making contact with the soft pink flesh, before his head collapsed on the ground once more.

Just leave me be, monster. Green eyes slid half-closed, the light inside of them beginning to fade as all measure of hope was lost. One sandy ear twitched at the sound of the monster's chuffs, almost signaling to the beast that he was no longer interested in playing his game. I know that we both enjoy our fun, but this is just cruel. Braced for impact, the colt tucks his chin in against his muddied chest and takes a sharp intake of breath, the damp, putrid odor of mud filling his delicate naves. The pounding of his heart is deafening and he can no longer locate the tiger's whereabouts -- his senses are too overwhelmed by the environment or his own panic -- but nothing comes.

No thundering roar to signal the attack.

No searing pain as his frosted hide is ripped from his bones.

No heavenly light to guide his dying spirit to the place where his ancestors roam.

The unicorn lies for a moment longer, briefly considering the idea that the carnivorous creature that had threatened to kill was slow in the head, but it is only the wind with its probing tendrils that stab at his muddied hide. His previous terror is now accompanied by confusion, and he lifts his tiny head to discover where his antagonist has wandered off to. Tired eyes search the shadows of the swaying forest, but not a single white-striped hair can be seen. He glances around the densely-wooded area that he has found himself in, trying to come up with a logical reason as to the disappearance of his pursuer, but he can find none. The mud has moved back to its original position as the goopy puddle of the forest, leaving no tracks behind for the befuddled colt to notice. All that he can do now is hobble home to the crashing waves, with a large, blank expanse left to sit in his mind.

I think I've wandered off from home one too many times. Tigers, rifts, spectres -- Oh my!

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