Scylla's ultimate move! Be a bitchass motherfucker!

Miko can’t stop running. Every bone in their body demands for them to run, even though their legs burn and their throat hurts and their lungs ache. They’re pretty sure they’re mostly adrenaline and fluff at this point, hearing whatever the fuck that was laughing behind them.

Idiot. The axe should have given it away. Scylla never fights with axes. Moron.

Whoever or whatever is impersonating their kid is catching up, and Miko is slowing down, down down, their energy running out. They never thought they’d be scared of the little kid they found on the streets ten… eleven years ago, (Jesus they’re getting old,) the little girl who was always so affectionate and who, immediately upon seeing a talking walking human sized dog, decided to hug it. The kid who was so smiley and fun she managed to get Baron Draxum to laugh.

And now they’ve never been so scared in their life. 

Their paws ache on the rough concrete, their throat is sharp with the cold air, and their legs are non existent at this point as they force themself to keep running, to weave a path through the alleyways of the city, feeling a knife zip far too close to their throat, slicing off a bit of fur. 

Keep running. 

Keep running.

Keep running.

But their enemy is too fast and they are so tired and they are too old for this. 

“Miko~” The Thing says, in their kid’s voice. “Come on, I won’t hurt you, puppy!! Come on.”

‘Shibas are mighty hunting dogs, did you know? Bred by the Japanese, they’re one of the closest domesticated relatives to wolves.’ They can hear Crollo’s voice in their ears, small, young, untouched by time and trauma. ‘They can run for hours, and not get tired.’

But the Thing is faster, and the Thing is untiring, 

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hah a yeah, pre rty muc h