Bessa

Summer Grounds 2/2

Run

Right, and left angles are zigzagged through the tightly packed treeline.

Run

Hind legs dig into the moss, tearing up the world in a crazed need of flight.

Run

Thoroughly alive with the speed of the Wild, the blur of the surroundings buzzes by.

Run

There is no need to look behind us, our pursuer is there, following at a distance but close enough to hear the distinct rush of air in and out of his chest.

Run

A familiar outcrop of rock is seen again and I realize he's running us in an arching circle. Taking a hard left, through tightly packed pines, his growl shakes the birds from the trees. If this was the dunes, there could be a chance.

Water is the only hope for us.

Snarling coming from the right, has a sharp left taken, snarling from the left her nose stretching out, trying desperately for every inch of ground she is covering. A flash from the side has us realize the Savage hasn't shifted but pursuing us in skin form.

Run

Again the outcrop of rocks is seen, panic starts to slip in, causing a crazed mind to spring away in a rush of adrenaline. Instinctively taking the path of least resistance down a hill, into open marshland.

The reeds are thick, the water shallow but the mud is getting deeper, making it hard to keep the speed up.

Nothing is heard behind or to the side of us, the only thing is our breathing, everything else has gone quiet.

The Wild's energy quickly exhausted as the muck pulls each limb downwards, sinking the body deeper and more profound with every step. In the end, it was all the Wild could do to pull her last paw out of the mud that wanted to keep us stuck there forever.

Silence...

Nothing can be heard but the life of Nature, nothing out of the ordinary to alert the Wild that she needs to create chase.

The Savage does not spring out of his hiding place he merely steps away from where he was standing.

The Wild stands up, addressing his presences with a rumbling warning that his advancements are not wanted.

"You ran well." His voice is edged in pleasantries that she snaps teeth at. The soft tanned leather hide is all he wears to cover his nakedness.

He drops to all fours, mimicking the Wild within him.

Cautiously he raises a hand, placing it on the ground like a paw raised to take a step by his Wild. His body is of the Wild but kept in skin form.

She bristles towards him, he does not bristle back but keeps a steady, determined pace forward towards my Wild.

Eye contact maintained by both.

One hand placed in front of the other, knees following in order. He mimics all the aesthetics of his Wild down to the way his head tilts up, sniffing the air, nose flaring.

There is an ambitious fierceness to her snarling show of teeth. She does not curve her neck to what's approaching - she maintains her status with an upright posture.

The Savage stretches himself deliberately in front of her. Yawning as if bored he bares his War of teeth right down to the roots, showcasing an arsenal, lazily for her viewing pleasure.