"Run, Carmie."

Karis's last words would haunt Carmie for the rest of her life. However short that may be. She

was running out of strength, and the hunters were not far behind. Her legs burned with

weakness, and her lungs struggled to catch up with the pace of her flight. The sharp and frigid

wind scraped past her cheeks and legs. She was a fast runner; she could've easily escaped the

hunters if not for the garlic clouds that bombed her only minutes ago. Her mind ran too. It ran

laps around the image of the stake engraved with the cross and coated in silver at its end. The

wretched weapon that had swiftly robbed her of her brother's life. The thought swelled like

poison in her heart. She could still smell the garlic when she tripped. A rock. Or a stick.

Whatever it was that would be the reason for her life's end. Carmie did not curse it. She knew it

was over. She knew that the hunters had won. Her only thought was to join her brother. Why not

enter the land of the dead as gracefully as she had traveled through life? Footsteps. Louder and

louder. The chants of the hunters. The screams of the wind. She closed her eyes. She accepted

her fate. And then, she was gone.