Valka
The sound of hounds baying and armored soldiers crashing through the underbrush chase me. Arrows flies, edges dusted with silver aconite. Already, one sticks through my knee, forcing me into a hobbling run, the poison spreading through me quick as death, slowing my speed, blurring my vision.
Wet tears roll down my cheeks.
Lucien.
Oh gods, how could I have forgotten? How could I have spent so long retrieving my memories, dabbling with the mortals, living with them, dining with them, loving them, that I'd forgotten why I made a deal with the devil himself? That I'd forgotten what they stole from us? From me?
An arrow slams into my shoulder, taking me down with it and I cry out as I stumble, face and knees scraping against stones. Still, I rise, forcing myself forward.
