Whitewash

The mountains are hidden beneath a velvet layer of feathery snow. The sound of silence takes over the world and flakes twirl from the sky. A sliver of moonlight casts upon the mountains to reveal a sparkling sheet in the dead of night. Pure magic.

Neglecting the beauty of her surroundings a woman wearing red bleeds through the mountains. She is entirely unaware of her direction and hysteria creeps into her brain. A gust of wind collects her attention and pushes her to gain momentum. She trudges further.

Hastily, the faint sound of her name catches her ear. Or does it? Dread nips at her heels and bites her heart. She stumbles through mounds of white creating a trail of red in the snow behind her. The unusual clouds above her expel mountains of snow that blanket her trail, a small amount of mercy. A sharp look behind her reveals a dark mass in the distance and horror stabs her chest.

She charges through the snow splitting the scene in half. Her eyes are pulsing, desperate for the snow to engulf her, needing to become nothing.

Crouching beneath a spruce she acknowledges the influx of blood spurting from her shoulder. Thickness begins to pool around her. Time is against her. A crunch of snow. Another. The sound is so cruel, that it teases her fear. They’re coming. Terror fills her eyes and comes streaming down her face. Her heart stops as a piercing breath cuts the back of her neck.