He's always been a fast runner. Every time he competed with the other apprentices, he knew he would have a guaranteed win. Even some of the warriors were hopeless against his quick feet and long legs. His races have carried him nowhere before, only gaining him a reputation among his clanmates. But reputations mean nothing to him; if he can't use it to get what he wants, then it's almost useless.

But. . . there is a chance. . .

He runs. Fleet-footed and sure, he dashes across the moorland, skirting the clumps of bush as he feels his paws thump in a consistent beat on the scraggly ground. His muscles burn, but that is a small price to pay for her- he will do anything short of taking his own life.

He runs until his heart pounds and his lungs are close to bursting. He feels his breaths begin to fail him as he slowly grinds to a stop, until at last he's standing there, a lone figure gazing mournfully across the pale grasslands. His talent- was it ever a talent? What sort of chance has he given himself, now that she has left him, never to speak to him again?