MELITA
A chase; rapacious, ravenous means, and if she were in the Rift she would have gasped and scraped and clawed her way through the underbrush, any measures of escape, any opportunity to evade. She would have hurled rocks, branches, and then kept moving – as it was now was more nymph quandaries, lightly skimming over the muddy surface and sodden loam, laughing, laughing, laughing, high-pitched, bright, full of ebullience rather than disaster. Fangorn was quick to pick up on the notions too, rolling and bounding, intending to assist in whatever way he could.While the vampire gourd went for the stranger’s ankles, maybe to grab the hem of his pants, maybe to gnaw on a shoe, Melita’s maneuvers became wild and unpredictable – no more straight lines, but fleeting, quick, swift, wild insurgencies towards the left, towards the right, attempting to surge through the grime, the muck, and the mire. She could feel his grip, his grasp, closing in, and in a last ditch effort, so she wasn’t pulled down, so she wasn’t flailing along the muddy vestiges (even though already haphazardly soaked and stained), she darted off to the side, hoping to avoid him completely, so he could go down on his own.
See I've come to burn your kingdom down
