Hikaru dared not look. He listened. All was silent. He could barely hear his own breathing. The forest lay beneath a blanket of snow lying about its purity. Hikaru grit his teeth against the hot tears filling his eyes.
The silence broke suddenly as the figure moaned. A solid thunk; it had fallen to its knees. Then wet tearing and gulps. Hikaru gagged; he pushed off the tree and ran.
Branches snagged on his arms, held up to shield his face from the icy snow and wind. He stumbled; pushed himself up. He ran on, never once looking behind him but knowing what was there all the same.
Then it was not behind him any longer but in front.
Hikaru's breath tore hot and ragged from his throat. He fell to his knees in front of a pale stranger with purple eyes, sharp fangs pressing against his bottom lip. "Please," Hikaru whispered.
The stranger listened.
Reader, thou hast killed our bard. The End.
