The Direwolf
Her feet moved on their own.
Her whole body felt weak, shaky. Her legs felt like rubber and her feet slipped in the mud, but she ran away from the beast all the same, with all the might and speed she could muster.
Running from a Direwolf was undoubtedly foolish, it would only cause the beast to chase her more.
But she couldn't help herself, not once she started.
How could she control the sheer terror that she felt?
The sounds of a struggle continued from behind her. The sound of Donncahd's angry, feral growl. The sound of the Direwolf's teeth clacking.
If the beast wanted to chase her, it was clear Donncahd still held it back.
She was shivering from the cold and from the fear.
She couldn't help the prince.
But the guards at the camp could.
She didn't know where his fellow hunting soldiers were, but they had to be about the same level of skill and readiness as the men at the camp, that's why they were out there with him.