09-16-2015, 08:01 AM
Cress has always been a kind girl. She has had no reason to be cruel or cunning, like those before her. Her parents weren’t the nicest of horses, but they did not raise the golden girl; instead, they left her to fend for herself. So Cress grew up kind. Being able to heal herself (and others) has given her a sense of wonder about the world and she doesn’t want to see others hurt. She has pushed her abilities to the absolute limits to save a life before and she would do it again every single day if it meant saving a life.
This, though, might just break her.
It will shatter her and she doesn’t know if she’ll be able to heal these pieces.
She is by herself in the Valley, as she so often is, when the howls begin. Instantly her head flies up and she glances around, not bothering to hide her excitement. Has the pack of wolves returned? The Valley hasn’t echoed with the sounds of howling wolves in many years and she can’t quell the emotions that rise up inside of her. The barks and howls aren’t quite the same as she is used to, but perhaps it is a completely new pack. New wolves for a new monarch; it seems fitting.
Little does she know that they are coming for her.
The hellhounds burst from the undergrowth and Cress’ excitement turns to panic as she realizes that these are not truly wolves. She has seen a hellhound before but these are darker, more twisted, more sinister. With a panicked shriek she spins and dashes off, though she knows that it is futile. These foul creatures were hunting, and they were hunting her; as much as she can heal herself, if they start tearing into her flesh and devouring her alive, there is no coming back. She’ll die here, alone and forgotten in the deepest part of the Valley.
Clumsy hooves that are still adjusting to the terrain are her downfall. She stumbles and goes down to her knees, and the hounds are upon her. There is one for each of her limbs and they grab ahold, dragging her down, down, down. Their teeth break flesh and she screams, even though she knows that no one can hear her. It is useless.
Is this fate worse than being eaten? Time to find out.
This, though, might just break her.
It will shatter her and she doesn’t know if she’ll be able to heal these pieces.
She is by herself in the Valley, as she so often is, when the howls begin. Instantly her head flies up and she glances around, not bothering to hide her excitement. Has the pack of wolves returned? The Valley hasn’t echoed with the sounds of howling wolves in many years and she can’t quell the emotions that rise up inside of her. The barks and howls aren’t quite the same as she is used to, but perhaps it is a completely new pack. New wolves for a new monarch; it seems fitting.
Little does she know that they are coming for her.
The hellhounds burst from the undergrowth and Cress’ excitement turns to panic as she realizes that these are not truly wolves. She has seen a hellhound before but these are darker, more twisted, more sinister. With a panicked shriek she spins and dashes off, though she knows that it is futile. These foul creatures were hunting, and they were hunting her; as much as she can heal herself, if they start tearing into her flesh and devouring her alive, there is no coming back. She’ll die here, alone and forgotten in the deepest part of the Valley.
Clumsy hooves that are still adjusting to the terrain are her downfall. She stumbles and goes down to her knees, and the hounds are upon her. There is one for each of her limbs and they grab ahold, dragging her down, down, down. Their teeth break flesh and she screams, even though she knows that no one can hear her. It is useless.
Is this fate worse than being eaten? Time to find out.