- state of extreme anxiety or distress

Run.

Left-right-left-right. Pause.

Run and don't look back.

Breathe, you're almost out.

Don't look back!

She stumbles, crashing into the knotted undergrowth with a grunt. Her bag spills its contents into the compact earth: clothes and herbs and a picture of her grandparents. There wasn't enough food left in the house to make a proper meal, and it sits like a rock in her stomach. Her hands claw at the ground, scrambling to get her possessions back into the satchel. Her fingers brush against silky fabric and she resists the urge to bring the scrap against her face to smell her late mother's perfume; she can rely on her own strength for a little longer.

Faster, be faster.

Ignoring the throbbing pain in her ankle - Feverfew and a dash of White Willow Bark to reduce swelling and inflammation - Shirayuki doggedly gathers herself together and begins to jog again. Gritting her teeth to keep from crying out - no time to bind it so suck it up - she forces herself on with determination she didn't know lay within herself.

She moves through the forest, albeit slower than before, but at least she's a good way beyond the village borders. It's further than any of other deserters have made. Even so, the ghosts of her former home chase her, haunting agonies of those she could not save filling her footprints. The pre-sunrise chill nips her skin but she needs to use the sleepy nature of her village to her advantage. If she can just get away to the next village to rest then she's safe for another day. Maybe she can warn them of what's coming.

A sharp cough splits the harried silence and a jolt of fear stabs her heart as she crashes into a tree. Pain shoots through her skull as she sinks to the vegetation below, biting her lip to keep her from crying out. Heavy footsteps crash behind her and the anxiety grows even as she throws her head up to open her airways and lessen the sound of her panicked breathing.

She's sure he's heard her, and her eyes burn even as she squeezes them shut. A snapped twig a couple of stone throws behind her makes the panic twist her stomach into knots. She has to get to the next village. She has to; it's not only her life that's on the line.

It's suffocating, the fear, and a wild part of her still spinning from the impact wants to throw herself out from behind this hiding place because at least then this awful waiting to decide her fate would be over, and she can't wait another second please-

A twang swiftly followed by a heavy thud startles her from her thoughts. Silence reigns for a few moments and the sudden realisation that she can no longer hear his heavy breathing only makes her heart race faster. The attacker was skilled enough to remain undetected, skilled enough to have probably heard her by now.

Make a break for it.

Do it now!

Preparing to run again, head throbbing and ankle now swollen and stiff, her fingers scrape against the bark for a desperate second. With a gasp she launches herself away from the tree-

A knife presses against her throat and she stops so abruptly she chokes. An arm snakes around her waist to pin her arms by her sides. Hot breaths in her ear, knees almost trembling, everything spins out of focus.

"Are you one of the guards?" She whispers, leaning a fraction away from the blade.

"No," his voice is quiet, "what is your business here?"

He could be lying, he could not care, but she speaks around the lump in her throat anyway, "I have to warn them...p-please, I have to."

A tense standstill stretches the time painfully, and her frantic breathing fills the air. The man scarcely makes a sound.

"Hmm," he muses finally and the knife retreats. His other hand grips her arm to spin her around and the movement sends nausea spinning through her gut. The man has a scarf covering his face, but his eyes shine a golden yellow.

"You're injured," he says plainly, giving her a sweeping glance - gaze calculating.

"I'm an herbalist," she pleads, "please, let me go." Maybe it's the head trauma, but even so she's slightly appalled that's she's been reduced to begging of all things. The man's strange eyes narrow, but he releases his hold and sheaths his weapon.

"Are there any in your village still alive?"

The question surprises her, and it must show on her face because he adds roughly, "we're on the same side aren't we? Answer me."

"None that haven't joined the revolution by now," she says at length, although the words taste bitter. Her village is a shadow of what it used to be, childhood friends that weren't given even the dignity of a grave.

"I see," he looks tired for a second, eyebrows creasing and then he swings into the branches of a nearby tree with a bounding leap.

He meets her startled expression with a stare, though it seems less hostile than before, "safe travels, red hair."

With a barely more than a rustle, he melts back into the darkness, and a bizarre loneliness tugs at her heart. But she's been given a chance, and she has to go. The sky is streaked with pink and red, and time is running out - the pain can wait for a while longer.

So gathering up the dregs of her resolve and meagre belongings, she shakily manages to carry on.

Edit : I apologise for the formatting issues and am trying to fix them, but FanFiction always somehow makes them worse every time I try. Hopefully this website glitch will be resolved soon.