Snippet #1748997

Snow descended from somewhere some would call it the heavens, or perhaps merely the sky. From on high it forms transforming its weary watery form, solidifying into an icy design till every edge is made whole in its rebirth. Then after its glorious metamorphosis it becomes far too burdened by its newfound weight. Flawed and beautiful the snowflake falls earthward helpless to the winds that blow where they will. Floating about wistfully only to find its end by being stranded on the unfeeling earth.
They were all dead, and for a brief moment in time she wondered if she was too. The gentle pulse of golden light that gazed into a sky of movement. Endless night that was shaken with dots of white that moved over her. The sky touched her with its cold, but she didn't notice, she felt hollow... empty. They were gone though, and she rose once more from the ashes.
Morrigan pulled to her feet, she was in Valcrest forest, and remained weary, more tired then she could recall being. Salamanders lay all about her feet their eyes reflecting the last moment of terror. Blood and dirt mixed with grime smeared all over the place. The fight hadn't gone the way she intended, but she lived which meant that there would be others.
Promptly she pulled a knife from a cadaver and ripped a cloak from another fallen traitor. Wrapping her body in a long cape of green. Pulling the hood over her eyes to hide away her features, no one would think much of a muddy traveler. So she meandered toward the nearest city... Newhaven.

Her recollection on this night's happening was fuzzy at best. Try as she might the details were fuzzy. Returning to camp was too dangerous to risk right now, but then she could sense something far more sinister. All that was coming to that fragmented mind was mere moments of the day. She had been drinking something and then, she woke, they were surprised. There was violence to follow, they tried to stab her.

A smile crept slowly across her lips, that was right. They tried to kill her, such an absurd plan. The Grinning Ghost could not be merely skewered like some pig on a spit. Anger nudged at her brain, but serenity flowed through. She was alive and they were gone. Morrigan couldn't have planned it better herself if she had planned it at all.
Numbly she trudged through the vegetation planting each foot flatly and somewhat carefully she did not wish to fall again. The tail of her cloak scraping the ground behind her. Time was needed, rest even more so, she would gladly play this game of cat and mouse. There were more, she knew it, so many more and the Ghost would go on the hunt.