She ran. She ran faster than ever before, her feet pounding strange rhythms into the earth as she fled the thundering sound of hooves behind her, the grass beneath her feet adding a lighter spring to her step than her already ballerina-like run.
Animals scattered as she flew past, her brilliant golden hair flying out behind her like angel wings, her green eyes flashing in the dim twilight light like a cats.
But Ester Moorings was no angel, oh no.
Ester kept running, the brown barks a blue to her, the leaves on the trees one and the same. The moon cast no light on her as she ran through the woods, continuing to run though she knew she had lost them. No point in pretending she was invincible.
Her dress snagged on a thorn, tearing a hole in the light blue material her mother had so loving made for her within her last precious few breaths. She finally slowed, a sob ripping up through her chest, not caring whether it would alert anyone to her nearness. The scream was a sound like no other, a blind scream of the sky being ripped from above them, of their soul being scraped out by death. There were no words to describe her pain.
Slowly, she slid down a tree, the rough bark breaking the material and scraping her skin, but she did not pain. All she could feel was pain and all she could see was black.
No moon in the sky lit her way, no stars to shine down on her, winking as if to let her know she was safe, that her mother was watching her, and that someone cared. She thought about how her chest felt like a gutted walnut shell and deliberated if that sensation might last forever.
How far the girl has wandered from home.