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In the dead of night, Torrhen was hidden from the night walkers by his dark pelt. He sat there, his nose upturned to the moon, a howl settling in the back of his throat. He didn't feel like company, so he kept it to himself. Despite how badly he wanted to let it out. Let the world know his anguish. But a single wolf howling at the moon might bring unwanted guests down upon him. He wasn't in the mood for a fight. At least not right now. The thought of battle sicked him still, even so long since his last one. He needed to get the feelings out somehow, though. He could feel them building back up until the next time he couldn't resist the thrill of the chase.

Please let no rabbit run across my path tonight.

The wolf's body shifted and changed until it took the form of a horse, nearly black as the night. At least in this form he didn't want to rage at the sky. Sadly. Torrhen was much more comfortable as the wolf. It felt more right to dig his claws into the dirt instead of trample grass with hooves. This form also meant more Stars were likely to recognize him, not as the wolf shifter Shaggy who roamed the land, but as a son of Stark. There was a family resemblance, even if it was very faint on him. Starks didn't come quite so dark as he.

Heard it he did. Torrhen's head snapped up, his horse ears swiveling around to catch the direction of the noise. A low grunt sounded deep in his throat, sounding almost feral, but still not as feral as a true carnivore would manage. As he would manage if he shifted back to what he was most comfortable as. The wolf deep inside was a difficult thing to ignore, even if one was born this way. If there was any other way to get like this. It would be interesting to look up. If only it didn't require so much socializing. All this time alone was making him into a hermit. Just the sight of other Stars made him sick.

Unfortunately, he didn't feel he could get away from this one. That howl sounded close. Too close for his comfort zone. And familiar, which made him even less comfortable. If he knew the creature the voice belonged to, he, Torrhen, would be sniffed out soon enough and followed until a confrontation was likely.

Or he could run and keep running and hope he wasn't caught. This would work, but only for a time. He couldn't run forever, not when the one chasing him was the same as him. Had the same abilities as him. He wasn't even confident about making a getaway down a river. The water would slow him down or drown him. A brook would work, if he got far enough ahead and his chaser didn't guess correctly in which way he went. Forests usually had lots of brooks.

Or would the better choice be to confront the other?

No. He was going with the brook.

Shifting to the more silent padded feet of a wolf, Torrhen made off in the opposite direction of where he thought the voice came from.

Eventually a brook did appear, after a good while running and leaving his scent behind. He would not be caught. He refused to be caught. He didn't care who it was, he wouldn't be caught. Not after he had tried so hard to rid himself of his past. Maybe start a new life as a wolf, forget he was ever an equine. Would that be too dangerous, though? To give in completely to the wolf side?

Did he care?

Yes. He did care. As much as he knew he deserved some sort of punishment for his crime, Torrhen didn't want to lose himself. He was afraid he would if he allowed the wolf side too much control. He already felt like he was on the border of giving it far too much as it was. But the equine form came with its own pain. There was no winning this battle. Maybe this was his punishment?

Torrhen paused at the brook, stepping lightly into the water as to not make too much sound, than deciding it was pointless. If he walked this, the other would catch up with him easily. But if he splashed too much, they would know his location just as well. He growled deep in his throat at the dilemma. Again he debated if he should just confront that which was following him. If they were here to seek his arrest and/or execution, that was fine. If that was his punishment, he would take it.

But he also wanted to live.

Moving into a trot, Torrhen followed the brook for a mile or so, his ears constantly shifting around him for any sounds. He broke into a canter whenever he got nervous of something that sounded close, but it always ended up just being a deer or a fox or something similar. Once he felt confident he was far enough away, he moved to the opposite bank to continue running. The water and slower pace had let him catch his breath briefly, though he still couldn't keep this pace forever.