She could see it, the smooth curve of the silk, the faint pink shimmer dancing across its edge. But no matter how far she reached, it kept slipping just beyond her grasp.
Her fingernails scraped the stone. The fan slid further away with a soft clink.
"No… no, no, no—come on!" Isabella gasped, dragging herself forward, her elbow digging into the ground, her body screaming in protest.
A low, wet sound came from behind her—a shuffle of feet and the crunch of gravel under too many legs. She could feel their breath now. Hot. Damp. Reeking of rot and old blood.
One of them exhaled right beside her ear.
The air trembled.
Her heart stuttered painfully in her chest.
They were closing in.
The shadows warped around her, stretching long fingers toward her back. She could see them in the corner of her vision—pale feet, cracked hooves, and long, trembling hands that almost brushed the ends of her hair.
