A symphony of howls and barks resounded all around the Falwood. A dozen or more hounds were chasing after one prey, their parted jaws easily picking up their prey’s scent as they bounded through the verdant green of the forest. Bloodhounds and elkhounds and retrievers were leading the hunt, their masters not far behind them. All of them wore red hoods, all of them were fully prepared with iron and magic to capture their prey. They moved swiftly, runes and spells aiding in their speed and ability to avoid the troublesome overgrowth of gnarled roots and briars.
With magic, they chased their prey who had none at their disposal.
Hiding from the sunshine and running in the shade, their prey continued on with their poor escape. Her blonde hair was knotted with dried blood and mud, no longer looking blonde but gray and green with filth. Fair skin that once shone with a inner radiance that would caused the most spoiled and tended to queens green with envy was translucent and gray. Blue and green veins crisscrossed over her frail and slight body, at least where her skin was visible. Still clad in her tattered and dirty smock of a tunic, stained with things she couldn’t bother to think about, Elida ran like never had before.
Barefoot and unarmed, the only thing she still had, the only thing to still prove that she was fae, was the earth and flora allowing her to pass through without getting in her way. Surely, even without her wings, without her magic, the land she once called home pitied Elida for the pathetic state she found herself in. Elida wasn’t sure if she should be grateful or angry. There was that voice in the back of her head that told her running away as futile and she was only prolonging the inevitable.
All around her, the further she went into the Spring Court territories within the Falwood, she could see others. Fauns and small pixies, little brownies and will-o-wisps. They hid, none of them offering help, but how could they? The dogs were approaching, closer and closer, and with them, the hunters were close on their heels. Elida tried to shout for help, but the iron collar tight around her neck choked her and seared her. It seemed speaking in Iza was the same as using magic, and so Elida could nothing but keep running.
Her body burned despite the cold sweat that dripped down her delicate brow and bony shoulders and back. Her lungs felt trapped by her ribs, every breath was painful just as much as it was life-giving. With blurry vision, Elida moved forward, only narrowly missing trees a second before it was too late. Despite her shaky form and not quite able to trust herself to keep moving forward, somehow the wingless sidhe didn’t falter.
“You can run!” She heard echo around her. “But you can’t hide! You can run! But you can’t hide!” Elida felt her nails digging into her palms as she willed herself to keep going, to run faster. But it seemed with each pounding echo of the taunt— of the threat— that she only ran slower and slower. “You can run!” She could hear the hounds paws behind her, could clearly distinguish all of them as they pounded the ground only feet behind her. “But you can’t hide!”
With magic, they chased their prey who had none at their disposal.
Hiding from the sunshine and running in the shade, their prey continued on with their poor escape. Her blonde hair was knotted with dried blood and mud, no longer looking blonde but gray and green with filth. Fair skin that once shone with a inner radiance that would caused the most spoiled and tended to queens green with envy was translucent and gray. Blue and green veins crisscrossed over her frail and slight body, at least where her skin was visible. Still clad in her tattered and dirty smock of a tunic, stained with things she couldn’t bother to think about, Elida ran like never had before.
Barefoot and unarmed, the only thing she still had, the only thing to still prove that she was fae, was the earth and flora allowing her to pass through without getting in her way. Surely, even without her wings, without her magic, the land she once called home pitied Elida for the pathetic state she found herself in. Elida wasn’t sure if she should be grateful or angry. There was that voice in the back of her head that told her running away as futile and she was only prolonging the inevitable.
All around her, the further she went into the Spring Court territories within the Falwood, she could see others. Fauns and small pixies, little brownies and will-o-wisps. They hid, none of them offering help, but how could they? The dogs were approaching, closer and closer, and with them, the hunters were close on their heels. Elida tried to shout for help, but the iron collar tight around her neck choked her and seared her. It seemed speaking in Iza was the same as using magic, and so Elida could nothing but keep running.
Her body burned despite the cold sweat that dripped down her delicate brow and bony shoulders and back. Her lungs felt trapped by her ribs, every breath was painful just as much as it was life-giving. With blurry vision, Elida moved forward, only narrowly missing trees a second before it was too late. Despite her shaky form and not quite able to trust herself to keep moving forward, somehow the wingless sidhe didn’t falter.
“You can run!” She heard echo around her. “But you can’t hide! You can run! But you can’t hide!” Elida felt her nails digging into her palms as she willed herself to keep going, to run faster. But it seemed with each pounding echo of the taunt— of the threat— that she only ran slower and slower. “You can run!” She could hear the hounds paws behind her, could clearly distinguish all of them as they pounded the ground only feet behind her. “But you can’t hide!”