She was alone. Running through the smoke-choked snow, alone.

Blood made a trail behind her, running down her legs and shoulder like rain. She looked back and saw the fire gaining. She wondered if the magician chasing her would hold out for much longer. She knew she couldn’t.

The sickle moon glanced through a break in the smoke. Five hours till daylight and her enemy’s powers would be hidden, until the sun set once more. Her shoulder throbbed, the poisoned arrowhead grating against her bones. The smoke forced its way down her throat, and she fought the urge to retch. If she could only find somewhere to hide! The magician was surely miles back, hoping to burn her out. But his fire didn’t have a mind of its own.

The poison was getting to her mind, making her dizzy and see flashes of purple in the smoke.

*Photo by AdamPaquette on DeviantArt