A spark of light in the sky like a scrap of glowing ash blown from a fire, Pseok decended slowly into a rocky valley. He touched stone which began to sizzle under the heat of the phoenix, and slipped into sleep.
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Elfair stirred. The memory of the events of the last few hours were splayed across her mind and she shivered from fear. For the last three years it was like she'd been on top of the fod chain, the people of Golden Valley had begun avoiding the places where she'd frequently appeared and she'd felt so powerful, almost indestructible. But nowat horrible monster had appeared and she'd felt so helless, so defenceless. It could have killed her with a single movement. Images of being burnt alive flooded her mind and she opened her eyes quickly.
She was alone now, but she'd expected that. The sky was dark and the moon was high, she was lying on her side on the edge of the clear space where they'd fought. Her legs, arms and face were sore with burns but, feeling her arms, less than she'd expected. Her hand moved to the burn on her forehead where it had, or had almost, touched her. A large and bad burn was left on the left of the centre of her forehead, running almost from her eyebrow to her hairline. It was thick, slightly thicker at the bottom than at the top. A trickle of blood ran from it down to the stone below.
Feeling that she swore. If the wound was open it could become infected and that would mean medicine, she'd been very ill a few times before from what seemed like small infections and she'd become slightly paranoid about it. She'd run out of her own supplies a couple of weeks before, which would mean she would have to go into Golden Valley to get some more.
She pushed herself to her feet, finding her body weak and trembling. She stumbled over behind the rtock she'd been lying against and found her sandals behind and slipped then on and stumbeled down the mountainside.
She hated going into the town, as it meant eithing biting someone which she suddenly felt very uneager to try (plus there was always the danger of meeting someone who knew the person she'd killed) or putting on her heavy clothes. She hated wearing more than a minimal amount of clothing, covering her claws and confining her movements, she felt so trapped and in danger.
She reached the small hollow tht she sometimes called home and eased aside a rock in the sloping 'floor'. From underneath she pulled a long trench-coat, boots, gloves, a hat and a pair of sunglasses. She swore when she saw one of the lenses was cracked. Something else she'd have to pay for. She pulled out a small wallet full of money she'd taken fro her victims and tried to count out the cash in the feeble moonlight. Her limbs trembled and she hated the thought of having to rap herself up in those clothes for the rest of the night.
Oh forget it. She'd risk it in daylight. She found a strip of cloth from the hole which she wrapped round the burn on her head, bundled the clothes back into the small hole, wrapped her cloak around her, took a few bites from the raw meat of the dead sheep lying beside her and settled down to sleep through the rest of the night.
ooc: Second time I've had to write out that post, not as happy about it this time though. Just Charger left awake now methinks.
Apologies for the long post.
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