Tilly’s heart was pounding in her chest as she ran through the dark forest. She had no idea how long she had been running, but her legs ached, her lungs were burning and she had the coppery taste of blood in her mouth. Her vision was blurred by the tears that streaked her face, but she didn’t dare to take the time to wipe them away. She had to keep running, had to get away. Driven by a primal fear and the need to survive, she pushed on into the darkness.
Her feet stumbled over gnarled roots half hidden in the fresh snow, and the bare branches of trees scraped at her face and arms. She didn’t know this stretch of forest, had never delved this deep into the ancient wood before. But she could hear the sounds of her pursuers crashing along behind her, and she knew her only hope lay in losing them among the dark trees.
With no moon to light the forest, Tilly barely noticed the cold mist that swept up around her. She didn’t notice how her sweat froze on her skin, and her breath came is short puffs of icy fog from parched lips. She was frantic, looking for some place to hide when her foot caught a rock and she fell. Her momentum carrying her through a tumble until she came to rest against the rough bark of an ancient oak tree.
Dazed, and with blood now mingling with the tears on her face, Tilly gazed up at the dark branches of the tree above her. Like twisting, skeletal talons they reached up toward the velvet black of the night sky, as if they yearned to pluck the very stars from the heavens. Gentle white flakes of snow drifted down through the boughs, already beginning to cover her tracks and bury her prone body.
Wouldn’t it be nice, Tilly thought, to just let the snow bury her. She would be well hidden here, and she could sleep. Maybe she would hibernate like the animals until spring came. Until the warmth of the sun returned with the promise of better days. She could drift away. Let go of her fear and rest. Yes, that did sound nice, and Tilly felt her eyes closing.
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“But don’t you want to live?”
The question startled Tilly, and she jerked her head up to find the speaker. At first, she saw nothing but darkness. Then her eyes focused on the branches above her head, and the dancing lights that seemed to swirl around a clump of twigs.
As she watched, the twigs began to shift and move before her eyes, rearranging themselves into the effigy of a bird that gazed down at her with jewel bright eyes, “Don’t you want to survive?” the bird asked in a voice that reminded Tilly of a chill winter wind.
Movement to her side made her turn, and she saw a gnarled ball of roots reshape itself into the form of a fox that sprang up to sit beside her, “Don’t you want justice?” the fox used the same voice the bird had.
Confusion warred with fear in Tilly’s mind even as a thick branch of the ancient oak twisted and writhed into the form of a serpent that slithered down and around her. When it spoke it’s tongue tickled at her ear, “Don’t you want revenge?”
The question sparked something inside her, and Tilly realized the cold her had been feeling was not from the winter night, but a dark, empty pit that had formed where her heart had been. She felt her fear being replaced with anger, and the creatures continued to feed the growing frost.
“They came to your village,” said the bird.
“They killed your family,” added the fox.
“They stole everything from you,” hissed the serpent, “Don’t you want to make them pay?”
“Yes,” the answer came from her lips before she had time to consider it, and in that instant the serpent sank it’s fangs into her neck.
Tilly felt a deep cold rush through her, and the world seemed to slip away. She lost all sense of her body, and found her perception flung out to encompass the entirety of the dark and ancient forest. A cold and malevolent primal power sang through her being, stirred by her anger and desire for revenge, and she focused on the group of hunters searching the forest for her.
They would die tonight. They would all die.