Spectral Woods [BWP]til your eyries receive you

She could hear his whaling in the distance, the sound growing fainter as she fell behind. Her pursuit was far too slow, movements stumbling and disjointed, with the lame leg providing nothing but dead weight. Eventually the cry died out, and with it her one small sense of direction. The stench of coyotes had so permeated the woods that it was impossible to tell one trail from the other, and picking out the faint trace of a single, carried pup amidst the miasma was close to impossible. Afraid to straggle even further back, the mother did not even stop and try, electing instead to plot her course after those last desperate calls, following the line of the mountains northward.

- FADE -

Word count: 119
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