Cohost writing prompt: @Making-up-Monsters — Monster who finally caught you, and now doesn't know what to do with you
Breathless, Wanda dashed toward the treeline, almost within sight of the parking lot, almost.
The gliding shreds of cloud pulled apart for a second to let the full moon stare down at her. She couldn't take the time to glance around, couldn't take the hit to her speed, never mind the risk of running into a tree; and no matter what her imagination conjured, she knew that the pursuit was silent, and all the crashing of leaves and snapping of twigs was all her own.
The great bounding paws, somewhere behind her, fell as silently as mist despite the werewolf's size and speed.
Almost. Almost. Between the trees she can see glimpses of the car—
A velvet mountain falls, carrying her off her feet into the leaf litter, with barely the breath to shriek. Hot breath on her neck, hard muscle along the length of her, claws flexing where a huge forepaw is planted either side of her head.
And then, suddenly, gone.
She kicks feebly, rolls onto her side, gasping.
Gemma, an arm's length away, bounces delightedly, all four feet, from side to side. Canine play-bows, tail whipping madly, and wuffs an unmistakeable, gleeful, Again!
"God," Wanda groans. "Next month, don't let me forget to bring a ball for you, I'm not fit enough for this—"