Wandering a Nightmare

The fae's boldness faded with the words of the ghosts and shadows. Her ears were pressed flat against her skull, her shaking tail held low. Her pelt was bathed in crimson and earth, filthy and matted. She took a tiny step back as the pale one spoke again, rage written across his features.
"I didn't say you had a choice. I told you to run, and you WILL run."

The fae was gone, flying across the ground. She barreled through brush and small puddles, fear making her run like she never had before. She was the prey. She was helpless, could not make another choice.

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