Casting out all thoughts of solitude, she swept carefully through the darkened woods. Evading moonlight, she crept silently among the trees, hoping that none would hear her passage. Danger fed upon the light, where peering eyes noticed all with blood-stained hands holding well-worn weapons. Hands ready to cast out all those who crept along in the shadows. As a child she often feared the darkness, like most children, and slowly learned to overcome the fear . . . except when she was alone. Pain and death, pain and death. Disappearing into the mists, she continued on, knowing nothing was behind her. Nothing was left. All that she had was ahead, in the darkness, in the shadows.
Still, she turned to glance behind. Only shadows and moonlight: ahead, behind and all around her. Breathing became more difficult; her chest rose and fell in silent gasps of someone grasping at sanity at the edge of panic. She raised an unsteady hand to her heart, willing its rapid beats to calm. Minutes crept by. She lowered herself to the ground among a crown of bushes, still as the wind that misty night. Silence met her ears, foreboding. The shadows shortened as the moon crept higher into the night sky. She curled further into herself. She sat, silent, listening: a soft hoot of an owl, the slight rustling of a small animal.
She stayed positioned by the bushes for an eternity, her arms and legs began to clench painfully. Contemplating continuing, she suddenly heard it: a disturbance in the air, a sound unknown to the dark woods. The night sounds faded away to silence. Her body froze, her breathing ceased. A soft clip-clop barely discernable broke the night’s silence. It seemed to be approaching; she closed her eyes, listening. The sound ceased, followed by the slight noise of someone dismounting a horse and then of his footfalls. The footsteps continued for several minutes, their soft padding making it difficult to discern the distance from her hidden location. The footsteps halted suddenly. An eternity followed, the pursuer was listening in turn. He was listening for her.

Fear swept through her spine. Mustn’t be caught, mustn’t be caught…His silence seemed louder than any horn trumpeting an army’s arrival. She could stand it no longer, she dared a slight peak into the forests looking, terrified, for the form of her pursuer. She didn’t move a single part of her body, besides the roaming eyes peering through the dimness of the moonlight.

A voice rasped, darkly veiled with malice, floating on the misty air, “I can see the whites of your eyes.” A paralyzing horror embraced her, leaving her sitting helpless in the bushes as the footsteps unmistakably approached her. Grips of iron clasped her forearms, forcing her to her feet. Her eyes latched to the shape before her, the hideous evil that held her captive, as he dragged her into the moonlight.

Light had given her away.