A woman tore through the forest, her breath ragged, hands pressed tightly against the wound in her arm. Blood seeped relentlessly through her fingers, warm and slick, trailing behind her like a red thread in the darkness.
She had been struck by an arrow nearly an hour into the hunt. Now, the thunder of hooves pounded behind her and the cause for the noise was a galloping horse with a vampire on top of it, grinning widely as if the vision of death himself.
Tears streamed down her eyes, fear of death terrorizing her, making her feel the terror a little rabbit would feel on a hunt by humans.
Tears blurred her vision. Her lips quivered as sobs caught in her throat, but she didn't stop, she continued to beg for help, yelling for it into the forest even though deep down she knew the truth. She knew that no help would come, not here, not now, never. Even then she still ran, she still cried for help.
