(The Devil)
Good, some cruel part of him thought. She should fear this. Fear sharpened prey, made them run faster, scream louder. Yet even as he thought it, another part of him recoiled at the idea of that fire in her eyes ever dimming.
Her lungs burned in his ears, her heart a frantic drum that called to everything monstrous in him. Her feet slipped and skidded over rock and root and frozen earth, but she kept running.
He should have admired that less than he did.
She vaulted a fallen log. Ducking, twisting mid-stride. Clever. Agile. Reckless. She moved like she’d been born for flight and still refused to flee in any way that looked like surrender.
He was gaining, purposefully slow.
His claws gouged trenches in the forest floor. Leaves exploded around her in violent bursts with ever
