The darkness calls..

[ShadowRose]

The delicate dusting of the snow blanketed the open expanse, enshrouding the hushed scene in a frozen prison of death an despair. Whispering, the glacial breeze danced within the grace of the moonlight, casting hauntingly ethereal figures across the banks of snow. Grasped tightly in the hands of the frost, a ghost of midnight gracefully moved, like that of a phantom born of silence and secrecy. The form traveled north, strong stides kicking up clouds of soft crystals, toward a light harbored on the horizon.

It had been a cold night, her body plagued with the curse the snow had brought. Her limbs, aching with chill, protested as she hurled herself within the boughs of a tree. Her eyes, fathomless and cerulean, scanned the distance, svelte body poised and ready. It was not far, the light in the distance had made a startling advancement as she traveled on. For now, she must rest.. She inhaled deeply, lungs filled with the harsh bitter air, and exhaled an angry puff of frost-laden breath. Perhaps she would stay here for the night. She was not afraid of death, nor freezing as she had done this very act many times beforehand. No, she would fair well here.. within the protective embrace of the darkness and its minions, the shadows and creatures of the night. Exhaunted, she closed her soulless pools of sight, sowing her breathing down to assume the pose of feigned sleep.

Her thoughts drifted, to her past, to her beloved mother. The smiling face of a cherished soul was devoured by the sight of her father.. a man who had slain in cold blood, maliciously, hatefully. Her mother's beautiful faced was splattered with blood.. she could see herself holding her mother's wounded body as her life slipped away, and the spark in her dark eyes fade. Even in such a numb stasis, she could feel the hate rise from within her soul, her blood heat with the boiling valcano of anger surpressed so long ago. Her muscles tightened, her jaw iron tight. With slow deliberance, she opened her cold eyes, their depths set to a brillant flame even in the cold night. Perhaps it was the only thing that kept her alive, the hunger of hate and anger she felt. She was disgusted with this life, the way the gods had cursed her so. She had always survived, it was the assassin's way of life, their struggle for a hold in this existence. Her unsatible desire to inflict pain on others, to destroy their lives, filled her with the spirit to live, to continue on. Many more would die, many more would suffer. And this was just the beginning..

With a hiss, the huntress fled into the night, running full speed toward the light in the distance..

(don't mind my typos.. or my grammar, haven't written in awhile).