Run! That singular thought consumed Freya's thoughts as she ran across the uneven prairie hills. The sun was rapidly descending past the hill, and there would be no moon tonight. She was alone on the ranch, and no one would be coming to help her. Run faster!

Freya hit the slope leading down to the homestead and slipped. Her arms windmilled and she gasped, desperate to stay upright and keep running. She was too close to safety to stop now! She lengthened her stride and let gravity pull her into a leaping sprint down the hill. In the back of her mind, Freya knew this gait was going to end with her either slamming into the front of the house, or falling flat on her face at the base of the hill. There was nothing to be done about that now, though. She could hear the crunch of footsteps over the rocky scrubland behind her, and felt a chill down her spine. She didn't dare look behind her. The steps behind her frightened her more by their pace than their proximity. They were relaxed and unhurried, just fast enough to maintain a comfortable distance. They weren't the mad dash of a desperate predator springing after prey with a good shot at getting away, but rather the casual tracking of a beast confident that the prey will be in its grasp whenever it wanted.

Its confidence was terrifying, but also spoke to an arrogance that was going to save Freya's bacon. She knew something it didn't.
Right on time, her boots passed over a line in the dirt. Freya saw the orange light of the sunset glittering through one of many strategically placed crystals along the line just before the sun disappeared for the night. She felt the hairs on her arms stand up, as if affected by static electricity.

Freya threw out her arms and grabbed the posts by the step up to the veranda and used them to break her momentum and pull herself to a stop, her leather gloves creaking in protest. Her long, platinum pigtails swung forward over her shoulders and slapped across her chest as the momentum of her mad dash ended.

Freya kept one hand on the post and grabbed her chest with the other hand, doubling over and panting. She finally glanced behind her, but she couldn't see anything. It was impossible to tell if any of the lumpy shadows out there were hills, bushes, or something more sinister. Straightening, Freya reached up to rub sweat from her forehead, and realized her hand was not colliding with the brim of her hat. Her hands patted the top of her head quickly, searching for something that wasn't there, before springing to her throat, finding, to her relief, the leather string attached to her wayward hat. She reached behind her and lifted it up and over her head and inspected it for any damage. It seemed fine.

Breathing a deep sigh, Freya collapsed backwards against the veranda column and held the hat over her heart.