Even before she’d finished making the jump, she knew her desperate plan had backfired. The look on his face was not one of shock, as she had hoped; he was fucking furious. Fighting mad. But it was too late to go back. She basically leapt into his waiting teeth, knowing he would see the failure flood her eyes if he cared to look.
They clashed mid-air, his weight knocking the wind out of her as his teeth dug into her left shoulder. Despite her pride, Fathom cried out: a sound half pain and half terror. The humiliation would come later, if she managed not to die here. She strained against the weight of him, her paws skidding against the dewey stone beneath her. Her breaths were shallow and shaky. The combined smell of her own blood and the old blood caked on his chest was too much - the fight drained out of her. She wanted out. Out, out, out.
Fuck, run, run...!
Gripped by panic, she snapped at his face, careless of whether she injured him or no, and then tore away from the confrontation, leaving a mouthful of fur and blood in her wake. The winter wind blew cold into her bleeding wound, serving to remind her how foolish she had been. She had no time for it now; she didn’t even have time to catch her breath. She was still too close to the murderous lunatic.
Maybe she always would be.
Breathless, she broke into a stumbling run, her injured shoulder compromising the speed she so depended on. Fathom ran for Diveen, too focused - too terrified of what she might see - to look back.
| 4 years | Diveen | Quite Alone | No Offspring | |