It's a Beautiful Day; But I Won't Enjoy It {open}

[Plume of the Eagle]

It was true, if you wanted to know, that there is no such thing as "violence." Oh, yes, wolves got beaten up, but there's always a reason behind it. Normally, the wolf deserved what it got- either it was a weak Omega, or it was insubordinate. Death, in a wolf pack, should never happen on purpose.

And that was why the Keiyou was running.

He was running flat-out, without heed of the rocks, instead scrambling up them and then flinging himself off; the wings on his back beating the air rapidly as he tried to get away. The murder he had just witnessed was outright, there had been no provokation. And the Keiyou saw no need to stay around. His scent wasn't on the corpse, but the bear's scent was. It was all over the body. Finally, the Keiyou's feet knocked into each other and he fell, toppled really, into a heap. It was amazing, actually, that Plume hadn't tripped before. But, he hadn't.

There was no way that Plume was going to lie around and let the grizzly come after him, nay. He scrambled into an a little den made by two rocks, laying on the floor and panting. The roar had been extremely frightening, and now the loner he'd joined up with for a day or two to hunt was dead.

He wanted to continue fleeing, but he'd ran like mad for two hours until he'd collapsed. His flight here was rather hurried and erratic, the lunges off rocks would've been amazing to any by-stander who didn't realize the Keiyou was fleeing for his life.

Finally, after much panting and muttering and reliving the exhausting chase, the Keiyou fell into a light slumber filled with nightmares.