Out of the mist…
She leant against the tree, trying to support her weight, and to ease the pain in her thigh. Nervously the dark-haired woman shifted her gaze rapidly, and when satisfied that she was safe, relinquished a heavy sigh of relief.
In a painful move she let her self slump into a sitting position beneath the tree, trying to stretch her leg out straight. The dagger stuck fast in her thigh, she tried to pull it out. Carefully she examined the wound. Blood poured onto the leafy ground and stained her dark green breeches.
She yanked on the dagger, trying to pull it free, and yelped in pain before slapping her hands to her mouth. Gently she placed a hand on the back of her thigh, trying to feel where the dagger had stuck itself.
On the back of her thigh she could feel where the long-bladed dagger had penetrated, and realised that the end was barbed, and had caught her skin. If she successfully pulled it free she would surely bleed to death.
A breath of wind gripped her hair and pushed it along the side of her face. Lightly she lifted herself, supporting all of her weight on her right foot, and keeping her left leg lifted she peered around the tree.
She had just managed the escape with her life. Looking around anxiously she scanned for any sign of the mysterious figure that had attacked her caravan, at the same time she clutched her sword.
She watched as slowly the white mist slowly emerged, and cast its shadow through the trees. The silky-white air moved slowly, and from the white she could see something, the outlining shape of a human body, making its way out of the fog, towards her. As she watched, several others appeared all bearing torches. All the men stopped, and as they did the fog surrounded them, from where she stood, she could see the unnatural mist change its shape, and out of the white, a silky hand emerged, extending into an arm. The arm stretched out further, wrapping itself around the seven men. The saw and tried to run, only to be knocked back by the smoky-white air.
While watching the white surround them she had failed to realise that the mist had now reached her. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end as she felt a cold, wet breath in her ear, and could hear the soft, almost silent words, “The last thing you shall see before your time.” She spun, swinging her sword out to the left. When she turned, whatever it was had receded, she looked around nervously; she could hear the sound of a man screaming, while choking on something. She looked up to see the same figure, holding a man with his arm around the man’s mouth, a chain wrapped around his neck. Slowly he released him from his arm and extended it, holding onto him with just one hand. At the same time she heard another whisper, the same figure was behind her. “Surrounded by death it seems, dear lady” the sound of a voice laughing behind her.
The cold chill of his breath was near cold enough to burn her, she shuddered and spun again, the figure didn’t move, only looked at her with dark-red eyes. In a single move it pointed up, the other figure had released the man, and the chain pulled tight. The sound of his neck breaking revealed that he was dead before he had time to choke to death.
She closed her eyes and tried to block the sound of breaking bone out, though the sound slipped through her fingers. She fell to the forest floor, tears emerging from her eyes, she sank into the tree. She looked up again, only to catch red drops of blood pouring from the tree above her. She wiped her eyes, and tried to flee, only to be thrown back into the same tree. “Not so fast my lady, you have yet to see the last of it before you deliver my message.” The cold voice said as the figure cast his shadow over her. She grabbed at her sword, managing to catch the hilt between her fingers, and swung it out wide, trying to hit the figure. Instead the appearance of the figure changed, before her stood the startled look of one of the men. She had struck him, and sliced him in two from the waist.
She stared in horror as the man’s severed torso detached itself from his lower-body.
Blood spilled from the corpse onto the forest floor. “Three of seven” the cold voice whispered to her. “WHAT DO YOU WANT?!” She screamed back, to no reply.