p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"He ran. His footsteps were a pounding muffled by the tall, wet grass. Grass… no, more like knives, they sliced the skin of his legs, ankles, and feet like butter, leaving behind thin cuts that dripped blood. Cradled in his arms was what could be mistaken for a baby bundled in a cozy blanket. In reality he held a large ball of rough, grey yarn, some of which dripped from his arms like candle wax. Behind him the sun could just barely be seen through the trees where it set, and somewhere nearby three witches with one eye to lead them followed in his wake. The air was beginning to grow cold, but he would worry about that later, for now the physical activity was keeping him warm. At present he was more worried about the three old ladies, the ugly, dirty, soulless… he shuddered before taking a deep breath of sweet air that washed away the images. He continued to run, and soon the sharp grass ended abruptly at the edge of a line of menacing looking trees. He did not stop to stare at the giant oaks, nor did he look over his shoulder to check if those wretched, terrible old women had somehow, miraculously, caught up to him. No, he kept on running, pressing the ball of old, musty yarn to his heart. He ran through the forest as best he could, puzzling his way through a maze of tangled brambles and poison ivy fields. He soon became hot and panicked trying to carefully, but quickly pick through the brush, his lungs pumping overtime to keep up with his frenzied pace. He realized suddenly what was happening and took a few seconds to calm his breathing, soothe his mind, and steel himself against the feeling in his legs. It used to burn, after all, they were like giant paper cuts, but now it was only a distant uncomfortable feeling. Continuing, more slowly this time, he began to hum quietly to himself, easing away the fear that he knew would sneak up on him within a moment's notice. When it grew too dark to see, he cleared away a patch of ground to rest on and soon after fell asleep in the the middle of a surprisingly quiet, ancient forest./span/p
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p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: 0px;"'-they're coming!' She woke suddenly, startled out of sleep by a rather loud voice shouting in her dreams. A groan passed her lips as she slipped out of bed and stood to stretch, arching her back and reaching her fingers high. She sighed, the eidolone was at it again. She did not look forward to the moments where she would drift into a dazed state only to blink and find a message written on her arm by her own hand. Or the nights she would stay up late trying not to fall asleep, because then she would hear the phantom, the ghost, the eidolone screeching in her ear. She had seen it a few times, had caught a glimpse of it in the reflection of her cup where it stood lurking by her shoulder. From what she could tell of that one glance, it looked like a washed out version of herself, an exact replica except for the way its shoulders sagged and its eyes looked limpid and sad. It predicted the start of a war three countries away, foretold the death of the army's strongest soldier, and made sure she was prepared a year before The Great Famine, but she wished it would go away. After all, she had moved here to this great, old forest to be alone. She had just... needed some peace. She moved into the kitchen of the tiny house and pulled an egg from the closet-like pantry in the floor, today would be a long, long day./span/p
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p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: 0px;"strongNotes:/strong/span/p
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: 0px;"Please let me know what you think, this is my very first fanfiction and I tried my best, but there might be some mistakes and plot gaps. Please let me know! Thanks./span/p