It never felt good to be interrupted by coyotes. This was the second time they are interrupted a conversation with Ferreiran in particular. Stretching the muscles in his neck, Vaken let out an audible sigh and grunted. “When the going gets tough," he whined, his voice weak and frustrated. The irony of the situation was not lost on him. He stomped his front paw hard against the ground and lowered his head. He lifted his tail high, trying to intimidate the coyotes. Then he ran, straight towards the three of them. 


He pushed into one with all his strength, barreling through the group. He nipped their flesh, but didn’t stop. He wasn’t going to fight. His intention was to keep running, to lose them somewhere along the north before returning to the edge of pack territory. He wanted them to follow him to give Ferreiran a chance to escape this time, since the wolf had helped him before.

He wouldn’t lead them to the pack. He would make sure they were off his trail before he returned to the border.  It would be too risky. He stumbled over some tree roots, but didn’t slow down. He didn’t even look behind him to say a formal goodbye.