Tears streamed down the young girl’s cheeks as she ran through the underbrush. Elanore could smell the smoke of her burning house and hear the death cry of her family. Her fathers last word had been an order: “Run!”
Heavy footsteps soon caught up to her, the pillagers war cry piercing her ears as they began the chase. She was the prey, and she knew it. She knew what they wanted to do, how they would violate her in her last living moments. All she could do was to run deeper into the cursed forest. The forest that had loomed over her in her deepest fears all her life. She had never been permitted to go there. The forest itself was haunted by horrific stories, disappearing’s and death – but it was the only way she could go.

“Get her!” a voice boomed to her right, causing her to dart left, avoiding the man, and she scrambled under a fallen log. A shriek left her as the ground underneath her feet suddenly gave way and she fell down a hillside, dotted with rocks and sticks from a resent earth slide. The rocks scratched her skin, tore her clothes and left her gasping in pain when she finally landed face first on the edge of a lake.

A surreal calm surrounded her. For a few seconds there were no sounds beside her ragged breath. The water was like a mirror, reflecting the moon above. No animals, no sound, just infinite calm how ever short. The men had found her again, and she got to her shaking feet and started to run, leaving footprints in the mud along the cold water. The forest seemed even darker as she ran between the trees. No direction, no clue about where to go. Just pure panic.
A rough hand snatched her arm, and she fell forward before being yanked back with a scream. The man grinned cruelly “I got her!” he yelled to the others who soon caught up to them. “Damn she was quick” one said and Eleanors eyes recognized one of the faces. A young man, only a few summers older than her. “Marc” she pleaded and the man’s face paled, but he didn’t stop the men from tearing her clothes. “Stop!” she yelled and a fist connected with her jaw, once more she fell and blood spilled from her split lip. “Help…” she pleaded with a fading voice, desperately trying to crawl away. She heard them laugh as they pulled her back, the earth splitting her fingernails.

“We shouldn’t do this here” Marc suddenly said, and who ever the big guy who had caught Elenore’s hands was, sent him a disapproving look. “Shut up, rat” he sneered, pulling Elanore to him and grabbed her by the hair.
“No… It’s… The woods” Marc replied looking uneasy. “They say it is home to a Fury. They are forbidde-“his words were cut short by a fist from one of the other men whom Elanore didn’t know.
Marc groaned and let his fingers run over the starting bruise “suit yourself!” he said, “I’m out of here!” the fear in his eyes was real as he turned and ran back towards the village.
“more for us, ay?” he leader chuckled and buried his nose in Eleanor’s hair. She whimpered while struggling to get her hands free, to fight, run, and survive. It was hopeless. “Please” she whispered “please don’t-“
A scream erupted to their left causing the leader to jolt and turn. The forest was calm, and utterly silent. Then another scream from behind. One by one, every pillager disappeared. The leader said something Elanore didn’t understand and tightened the grip he had around her waist, having long abandoned the golden strands of hair that had held his gaze until the disruption.
“Who’s there?” he sneered. Elanore gasped for air as his massive arm blocked her lungs, but he didn’t care. “Show yourself!” he demanded.

Five silhouettes dropped from the canopy. Hanged men with horror in their dead ever staring eyes. Rustling sounded again, and a sixth form fell. Marcs eyes stared at the leader “Help…” he begged before the thick vine choked the life from him.
In the face of his dead crew the leader felt fear. He dropped the frail female he had chased and turned to run. Elanore impacted the ground, blood from her lips seeping into the soil as she turned to stare at the scene before her.
Vines twisted around the leader, lifting him from his sorry boots. He screamed in terror as a woman appeared, a woman made of vines. Made of the forest itself. Her eyes was a blazing yellow as she dispassionately waited for the man to die. The last Elanore saw was the woman looking at her, turning slowly, her movement sounding like wind in in the trees.