Letter to the King

A grey wolf with dark brown spots at its feet and silver eyes that flashed amber every once in a while dashed through the woods, stopping every now and then to take a drink or to hunt. Her goal was still far from reach and she didn't dare buckle under the pressure of having run so many leagues following the Great Sirius river upstream.

Beatrice hadn't gotten much sleep or rest for that matter since she'd run from the rogue king. It had been three days since the day she'd run off. Her muscles were starting to ache with fatigue. Her sense of distance had become greatly distorted by how much she'd been running through the woods and her mental state was starting to suffer the effects of isolation.

She lost count of her estimates on the evening of her second day of running and just kept to the river. It was all she could do to keep herself from succumbing to the emptiness that threatened to invade her mind.