Pan's tail switched irritably at her hips. She had gotten used to the heavy atmosphere of sealevel, but the closer she got to the cliffs of the Peak, the more she itched for its open skies and thin air.
It would be a while, though, before she could get up there on her own.
The dappled grullo's foreleg burned in anticipation of the climb. A half-healed gash ran several inches up her right knee, not terribly deep or wide, but positioned in such a way that caused it to stretch painfully if Pantheon did not keep her leg mostly straight. She could walk normally for the most part - bearing weight did not hurt - but whenever she had to move quickly, she was forced into a short-strided, hobbling gait that was both graceless and exhausting. Climbing the mountain required far more dexterity than Pan was capable of accomplishing at the moment, so the Peak was out of the question.
She lipped bitterly at the dark, scabbed flesh. When it wasn't splitting or cracking, it was itching. It drove Pan to insanity most days. It was healing cleanly, and for that she was grateful, but the promise of peace in the next week or so was not enough to still her ire.
She wished she had her mother's patience. Naydra was so good at waiting, even if she didn't want to, and Pantheon was decidedly terrible at it. She paced stiffly the edge of the pool beneath the Falls, tail snapping, too cranky to enjoy the cooling mist that kept the worst of the late-summer heat at bay.
PANTHEON