Wandering a Nightmare

The minute fae was terrified. No, that was an understatement. Eyes rolled, bloodshot and haunted. Breath came fast, wicking away saliva from her open maw. Sweat and crimson encompassed her tiny frame, hot with fever and fear.

Pain was everywhere. Physically, her wounds burned with an intense fire and whipping branches and thorns tore at her bloodied pelt. Mentally, there was a terrible panic, fear that she would be killed slowly and agonizingly, a terrible, gut wrenching fear. She screamed then, a cry of such horror and fear and darkness it was unheard off even to her own ears.