HP: 4/5
The resurgent river slammed into Urna's stocky legs a body-length from shore. The smooth pebbles of the riverbed skidded out from beneath her paws, tumbling with the current. For a cold, turbulent moment, the hyena scrabbled for purchase as the whitewater threatened to sweep her downstream. Then her claws met earth and she hauled herself halfway out of the shallows, breathing hard. A moment to re-sight her targets and—
Quinnat's voice cut through the air.
Urna pulled up short like a dog on a leash, every part of her all but straining towards the intruders. Hot blood pounded in her ears, and for a moment she was tempted to pretend she hadn't heard. They'd see, once this was all over—once they had Duskorna's monarch dragged back for a face-to-face with their own—they'd see how it was all worth it.
They had her. All Enya could do now was buy time.
But no, her eyes met Quinnat's and she knew it was too late. Protests welled bitter on her tongue.
Urna managed to choke them back with a grudging, breathy bark of assent. The least she could do was avoid starting an argument in front of the trespassers. The tentacles of her mane rippled with a shudder of unspoken displeasure. She planted her paws and stood straight, watching—Shifty, was it? Yeah, that's a name that reeks trust—with cold eyes. You leave today by our grace alone.
"Go," she snarled low to him, voice barely clearing the noise of the rapids. "Never come back here."
The resurgent river slammed into Urna's stocky legs a body-length from shore. The smooth pebbles of the riverbed skidded out from beneath her paws, tumbling with the current. For a cold, turbulent moment, the hyena scrabbled for purchase as the whitewater threatened to sweep her downstream. Then her claws met earth and she hauled herself halfway out of the shallows, breathing hard. A moment to re-sight her targets and—
Quinnat's voice cut through the air.
Urna pulled up short like a dog on a leash, every part of her all but straining towards the intruders. Hot blood pounded in her ears, and for a moment she was tempted to pretend she hadn't heard. They'd see, once this was all over—once they had Duskorna's monarch dragged back for a face-to-face with their own—they'd see how it was all worth it.
They had her. All Enya could do now was buy time.
But no, her eyes met Quinnat's and she knew it was too late. Protests welled bitter on her tongue.
Urna managed to choke them back with a grudging, breathy bark of assent. The least she could do was avoid starting an argument in front of the trespassers. The tentacles of her mane rippled with a shudder of unspoken displeasure. She planted her paws and stood straight, watching—Shifty, was it? Yeah, that's a name that reeks trust—with cold eyes. You leave today by our grace alone.
"Go," she snarled low to him, voice barely clearing the noise of the rapids. "Never come back here."