There was a yell and she ran for dear life. It was raining outside; the rain slashing hard against the ground and any unfortunate victim to enter it, which made it all the worse. Her vision was blurred, and no one could hear her over the drumming of the weather. Crap.

She rounds a corner and nearly collides into a tree, only just twisting out of its way, a branch clutching and searing a line of blood down her arm. The wind races with her, twisting, howling, and barrelling into her as she skids into a puddle.

She stops.

Leaves rustle, rattling. Her breath shudders, and as she whips around, eyes wide.

"Gotcha!"

The figure leaps out from the alleyway and launches itself after her, barely giving any time for her to react. The victim screeches, ducking and diving against the wall. She barely manages to hold her footing before scrambling away again, her feet springing her off away, away.

This time though, they're closer. She can hear the vigorous thumping of feet behind her; the lack of voice exchanged for determination and bloodlust. There's another roar, and almost as though the air held it's trepidation, she knew instantly to dodge, allowing herself to crash into a sodden fence as the other went bowling past. She only manages to grab a handful of air before scrabbling against the fence, flipping herself over the top.

Landing heavily in a patched heap of grass, her shoes squeak their way onto solid ground, and it's then that the adrenaline grabs and drags her down. Lungs choking on themselves, legs cramping, she grunts as she pulls herself against the wall, forcing herself to pause. Her body easily complies, yet her mind continues to tick, eyes darting around. Her breath curls around into the air, whispering away.

A cat yowls, and she's off again, sprinting as fast as she can down the alleyway. She comes out into the middle of a street, not a soul on site.

Hair plastered to her face, her shoulders tense up as she feels a pair of eyes on her back.

She slowly turns around, and meets with a grin.

"Hello," those delighted eyes reply. She counteracts with a snarl, and places her foot behind her.

"Not so fast," he responds, not bothering to move an inch further. He knows, and she knows too.

It won't stop her from trying.

Her foot places squarely on the ground behind her, the rubber grinding against the granite as she holds her footing. His eyes, in return, sharpen.

"That's rather foolish, if you ask me," he warns. There's a pause.

She flips away and lurches forward, her feet tripping off the ground, and agony drives into her back.

Her knees skid against the ground, shoulders jolting. A blinding sweat hits her, choking as her own weight crashes her against the floor.

Blood drips down her back, a knife lodged there, sticking amongst the rumple of sodden clothes.

The figure watches her for a moment, before simply turning and walking away.