She laughed.
Then she ran.
Storm exploded through her legs and she launched back the way she'd come, the canyon blurring past her in streaks of black and grey. Behind her, the Razorfang column poured out of the canyon mouth like water from a broken dam, forty sets of bladed limbs chewing through the distance with the mindless, relentless speed of creatures that had evolved to chase prey until it died.
Luna was slower, but not slow enough that she couldn't make use of her headstart. While running, she kept sending sparks of lightning back, more so to trigger their senses with the flashy show than to hurt them, receiving loud, hostile snarls in response.
Luna grinned. She needed them angry. She needed them committed.
Five hundred meters had never felt so short.
