Snippet #2811760

The damp drop rolled down her cheek unexpectedly, her view of the trees around her suddenly blurring. For a brief moment she looked up, almost expecting to see rain coming down from the clouds before she remembered that it was the middle of winter and the steady snowfall around her.

This wasn't rain. This was tears that, once started, came on hard and fast.

Eilin had made it out of the village unseen by the guards once more, intent on tracking down any demon within the radius of the village. For what, though? Any idiot knew that in weather such as this any tracks left would be covered over in an hour at best. Perhaps deep down she knew that she needed this time away even while she kept her composure the last two days. That vulnerability she was loathe to show anyone had been bursting to be acknowledged since she first laid eyes on Sverre in that burned village. It had only been a matter of time.

Now, Eilin found herself sliding down to sit with her back against an evergreen, her knees drawn up. As much as she hated to admit it, she had never been able to lock the past away. Not until she could avenge her village. Her parents, her friends, all those she grew up with. And that past had come back to haunt her, quite literally. Every time she looked at Sverre and heard him speak, another part of her memory was freshly unlocked, as if a puzzle box brought to life by the right push of a button, and he knew exactly how to solve the riddles.

So even though she hated the weakness, Eilin allowed it for the moment. Here, out in the middle of a forest where the only thing that could possibly cross her was an animal. Her face buried in her knees, she hid from the world, her dark curls falling around her in a protective sheet and her shoulders shaking every once in a while in the still silence.

How long she sat there, she wasn't sure. In fact, she was certain that there were moments when she forgot to listen to her surroundings. Yet every time she started, realizing her slip-ups, all was quiet around her. Eventually the tears dried and she sat with her head resting against the tree, staring up at the canopy of the evergreens as the sun reached the noon point in the sky and began its descent into the second half of the day.

Later that afternoon would find her wandering deeper into the forest. A part of her was still very much intent on the mission she had set for herself that morning yet another part of her was weary and tired from the last two days. Eventually, she knew she had to give it up. If her mind was not in the right place, any encounter with a demon could be deadly for her. She could not hope to fight to her best ability in this half-distracted state. And she was right on that account, as it turned out.

Had she been more attentive, she would have picked up a very faint trail of prints leading up to a tree where it vanished. Heard the slightly louder rustling above her that could not be explained away by the wind. By the time she heard the strain of the bow being drawn back and the whistle of the arrow through the air, it was too late. The impact to her shoulder sent her sprawling forward onto the snowy ground. She barely registered the pain or the fact that her spear slipped out of her grasp as her hand suddenly refused to listen to her wishes. All she knew was that if she did not get up, she would be dead within a few seconds.