Witch's Marsh Don't you remember when you were young, and you wanted to set the world on fire?

It all happened in seconds, yet it felt a small eternity; a spotlight on this moment, as if the world somehow knew it would not be the same in the moments to follow. Mae felt the air brush across her face, soft like a caress in the moment before impact.

Then the man's nails raked across her face, and the world exploded into shards of scarlet ice. The pain registered as a searing chill across her brow, across her eyes. She heard herself let out a harsh breath and wondered for a moment why it wasn't a scream. She wanted to scream.

Instead she lunged again, relentless; following her nose and her ears now where her eyes failed. She couldn't see — but that wouldn't stop her. Nothing would stop her. Mae snapped for the wolf's legs now, haphazard but vicious in her pursuit. She couldn't see her father's movements, couldn't know his intentions, but her own were similar. She sought to bring the man to the ground.