Of Moose and Femme (AKA Great Gnus, Everyone!) - Part 2

Gaval burst out from the underbrush along side the runners and peers back over his shoulder. Looks are given from person to person as they flee ahead of the large creature behind them. His lungs are working well and good, most likely already running to get to the meet point. A bland look on his face as he looks once again at Ruby. "I take it I did not miss much of things? Or am I well and truely late. Things seem to have kicked off already."

Ailith can only give Gaval a shrug as she runs to keep up with the others. "The creature was something of a surprise. At least to me."

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Of Moose and Femme (AKA Moose Moose-sick) - Part 3

Concentrating not only on where she is going, but on where she is taking them, Maggie can only grunt an affirmative when Merrisol reminds her that their beastly charge must be kept with them. No losing the charging charge before its time, right? Right. Dodging a trailing vine that turns into a serpent, Maggie skids across a bit of frozen muck, sending a spray of melting ice across a meadow in the next moment. "Ruby, can we..." Her call is lost when Merrisol is lifted bodily from between the two femmes and hauled above by the child-given muffler. "No! Oh, no you don't, Stickbutt..." Whirling mid-stride, she screws her determination to the sticking point, or there abouts. She is not going to let that creature harm her mate. Drawing her swords, she leaps for a bending sapling. "Get ready to grab on, Kerf!" Onto what? Really, Maggie is not that good at communicating her plans, is she? She should work on that. Running up along the young tree's slippery trunk, she races to the end to spring-board up toward Merrisol. Her aim is to slice him free, perhaps then to stick the beast with her blades to avoid a rumble-tumble fall.
The running leap along the sapling does springboard her into the air. Just... not high enough. She flexes in an attempt to throw herself higher and that does work, but... in her hurry to get to Merrisol, Maggie did not take the monster's oddly roiling gait into account. A joint lifts about when she reaches it and she collides with it with a resounding SMACK. The rebound sends her flying forward in a whistling, tumbling hurrah of Maggie trailed by her own hair and dribblets of blood. Luckily, she lands in a snowbank with a crystalline ploof of flakes and shimmer of ice.

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