Haunted Wood And my diamonds sold

He ripped himself from her grasp, giving her a moment to breathe. A moment too short.
She turned to launch her attack only to see his head careening towards her, hitting her face on.
Her eyes shot wide open, head snapping up as she took stumbling steps backward.

This is a fight. You must not stop. If you stop you die.
You will die.

Fear. Panic.
It flooded her veins as her head rang, blocking out the sounds. The panting, snarling, wind in the trees.
Constant ringing.
Vanity lunged, being shorter and him recovering - though he probably already had like she had - she aimed to sweep past him, right for that injured leg. It would make him stop. Make him the one laying glassy-eyed, watching the world move by without knowing it.
To be remembered only on the mountain on the Day of the Dead.