The intense pain from the arm, coupled with the warm liquid flowing from the wound, instinctively reminded her that her life was slipping away.
The penetrating cold in the air made Lily's body tremble, like a moth drawn to a flame; she subconsciously moved closer to the only source of light in her environment, running towards the direction of the Fog Lamp Grass with small, broken steps.
The canyon was so silent it was unnerving.
Even though her feet kept moving, never stopping in place, the girl felt her body growing colder and her limbs gradually losing strength.
Moreover, in the terrifying deathly silence that made one hold their breath, Lily seemed to sense a certain gaze lurking in the depths of darkness.
Maybe it was the fleeting blurred outline seen between the swaying of distant Fog Lamp Grass; perhaps it was the abstract face composed of moss on the surface of the rock wall beside her; or perhaps... it was the land beneath her feet itself.
