Xenarthrans
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A bruised, beaten-up, and bloody mess. Panting in agony as the wind whipped against their wounds, they couldn't stop running. The post-storm smell, mingled with the metallic scent of blood, made the scene feel like it was right out of an over-dramatized crime movie about fugitives.
But this wasn't about running from the police. As brutal as a policeman might be, being caught by their current pursuers would mean a fate worse than prison. Their legs screamed for them to stop, body’s growing heavier and heavier by each step as their pursuers shouted more threats. Were they getting closer? It sounded like they were, but despite this situation, Sasara managed to laugh—a bitter, pained laugh that sounded almost like choking. Or maybe he was choking; only an idiot like him would waste breath laughing while running for his life.
Yet the sound of his laughter made this situation feel less screwed.