[color=D6CC88]The girl was soon asleep, nestled cozily between Ethan and Wyth.  She slept soundly, though she did show signs of a nightmare at one point.  But when morning came she still slumbered, only stirring a little when he pat her head.  Amuné was roused by yelling not too long after, and she sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes.  What was going on?

Beside her, the moorcat was sitting up alert, ears pricked towards the noise.  Suddenly he lunged to his feet, lips pulling back from his teeth in a snarl.  Whatever was coming, he didn't like it.  When he went to stand over her, his girl scrambled backwards, eyes widening as Cecil and Ethan charged back into the campsite.

"What's wrong?"  Amuné got to her feet, squinting into the shadows of the forest.  When she saw what chased the others, she paled.  Large wolves, pitch black with eyes glowing in a menacing fashion, drooling molten liquid from their toothy maws.  She stifled a shriek, keeping it to a frightened squeak, and backed away.  Why was nothing going right lately?

Ethan had grabbed a stick, and not a very sturdy one.  How was he going to fight with that?  He needed a real weapon, something that wouldn't snap the first time it hit.  She dove for where her clothing lay in a neat pile and grabbed her dagger in its sheath.  It wasn't very big, but it was better than nothing.  "Ethan!"  She tossed it underhand towards him, grateful that her hands weren't shaking badly enough to throw off her aim.  Wide grey eyes watched him, frightened but trusting.  "Be careful."[/color]