Wicked Water

Keep going.

Starshadow's legs swung in the ancient rhythm of survival, nostrils straining, throat burning with each gasp; he flicked an ear back.

The wolves still followed.

Sera whimpered, tightening her clutch in the tangles of his mane.

Must keep going.

He brought his ear forward, flicked the other sideways, back, forward.

Sparkling life-giving water rippled over the rock.

He nosed the water. It stank of death, of the horror upstream and of what chased them.

Its laughter danced over the scrape of claws behind them.

He stepped over the creek and kept on his way, ahead of the wolves.