The eternal suffering

DIR(15): feathers everywhere

(The art is an illustration of Merlin's and Arthur's play fight)

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*Flashback*

When she came to her senses, she was on the run. She was, literally, in the middle of a sprint. Running and panting and almost stumbling over a root, as consciousness returned to her with a slam.
She didn't know where she was. She knew neither where she had come from, nor where she was headed.

She just knew that she was and something told her to continue running. No matter how hard her lungs burned, or her stomach ached.
Her head hurt as well, but it was of no matter while she ran.
Because running meant, she was okay. Even if her feet got scraped open by the stones she slammed into with every step.
Running meant, she could breathe, even if the cold air told her otherwise.

She was pale of exhaustion. Her lips merely a shade. She hadn't eaten properly in a while and her thin frame was about as fragile as a tooth pick.
You could call her beautiful, in a way. But it withered in comparison to the sickness of her appearance.

Only now did she recognize the voices that were shouting after her. Torches had been lit and she remembered.... they wanted her dead.
She remembered, she didn't come from here. She didn't belong here. She came from somewhere far away. Somewhere surrounded by mountains. A place with flowers of all kinds. And water. There was an ocean... or a lake. But ask as you want, she could not remember where that was.

She knew it was a place of the most rare trees and fruits. A place without animals that were used to be fed off from.
It was a place of kindness. And yet... she darkly remembered the face of a man. An evil man.
He had been angry too.
Just like the man behind her.
It was so long ago, she could hardly remember his face.

She had no shoes, and her dress was torn to shreds.
"KILL THE WITCH!", someone shouted. She understood the language, but it felt foreign to her.
"MONSTER!", someone else shouted.

Right. She had done it again.
Someone had attacked her again. She had killed him. Did that count as self defense?

Had she killed the man from the memory as well?
She ran harder, as the voices became clearer, louder. It was day. It was always day. She never slept, yet, she had never seen the night.

What was the man's name again?
She startled, she stumbled over another root. This time she fell and scraped her knee open. There was blood.
With a hiss, she brushed it away from her wound. It would get infected, if it mingled with her own.
It wasn't her own blood. Someone was dead.
She couldn't think, she couldn't breathe. Again.

Sentiell. His name had been Sentiell. Was he dead? Did she kill him? She didn't remember.
But she remembered that he tried to do things. Unspeakable things. Did he do them?
It was so long ago, she couldn't feel it anymore. The shame. The places he tried to claim for himself.
She could never remember the man who caged her.

She was free now. She had bled the shame away. She knew that. She remembered that.
Was she dead? She didn't feel dead. She should be dead.
She felt pretty much alive, with everything burning in pain.

She scrambled forward and crouched behind a tree. There was a forest around her. The trees had no markings on them. No runes. They didn't have the feeling to them that she was used to. None of those wild flowers she loved. The earth was flat. There were no mountains, no lake.

"She is here somewhere, I know that!", someone grumbled. He was a hunter. She remembered that now.
He was the kind of man who gained money by finding druids and selling them to kings who wanted her execution. If he caught her, it would be over.