Fairspell Meadow she picked wild flowers

She was helpless in this moment - a ghost trapped amongst the snow that so perfectly matched her coat, even the stains of blood that painted the fur of her neck and shoulder a shocking red. So wild was her thrumming heart, so pure the terror in which she stared up at the figure holding her to the ground, oceanic eyes dancing with horror as she fought off the tears that threatened to spill and display clearly how hopeless she felt. You cannot even defend yourself, a voice taunted in her head, stinging her thoughts bitterly as her eyes squinted tightly shut for a moment. A heartbeat. Then once more they were open, facing the beast that had control of her figure.

She had not anticipated the groan that escaped his maw, and uncertainty spread out across her features, though it did not overule the fear that she was still desperately attempting to mask. Her life, it was in his hands now - an idea that she was incredibly, uncomfortably aware of. What was he going to do to her? What did he want with her? The dove, shot down and bleeding amongst the icy chill of the snow, gulped and waited tensly for the male's move. 

But his movements brought her another aggressive wave of fear, washing over her and leaving her gasping as she attempted to wriggle away - this ocean of fright was not wanted, was not accepted by her heart that pounded against her ribs as though a raging war was commencing within her chest. Again her eyes squeezed shut, and the pale girl attempted to forget about what he was doing while she continued to wiggle in an attempt to perhaps free herself from his grasp.