Glorall didn’t smell the same. No one she recognized was there, and so she fled. She did not dare stray far, however. Her feet led her to a network of caves, the perfect hiding place. Tail still remaining firmly between her legs, she trotted into one, slowing down once she was bathed in its darkness. Yellow-green eyes were wide as they stare into the darkness, quickly adjusting to make up for the lack of sunlight. This cave was a small one, which suited her just fine.

The bite of the oncoming winter was on the air, and leaves skittered about the cave’s entrance. Those leaves worried her. It would be harder for her to hear anyone approaching with the noise they were making. Her eyes dart about, trying to ensure that she was alone. The wind ceased for the moment, and the leaves lay flat. She relaxed almost permanently tight muscles slightly. She was alone, and it did not appear that anyone had followed her. She was safe for now, at least in this section of the cave.

There were some boulders against the cave wall still in sight of the entrance. With her black-tipped grey coat, she should be well-hidden curled up among them. She padded softly over to them, and sat, placing them at her back so that she could see both the entrance and further into the depths of the cave. It did not matter that she did not know what lay beyond in the darkness. If necessary, it would at least allow her to flee an immediate threat.

Still on edge, she could not quite bring herself to lie down just yet, still convinced that he might be lurking nearby, watching.

Alana
. female . thirteen years . 29 inches 75 pounds . no mate . no life . Glorall .
. mother of Grendal .