There is the smell of cardamom on the air, and a dry, warm night breeze that rushes past her ears. The petals of the trees glow and sway, and where they drop they leave trails of thin mist in a thousand colours. It is the most beautiful place she has ever been, and she moves through it as quickly and quietly as her training has made her capable.
A chill is chasing her, licking at her neck. Her wounded leg has started to throb, distantly. Eventually, the wolf will catch up to her. It’s time to start thinking of alternatives.