Drabble
She did not think in terms of good and evil, and that was perhaps her best asset and greatest flaw. She thought in terms of nature, in predator and prey, in the hunter and hunted, in survival above all things and yet with no fear of death; for what was death but a chilling end that would blossom into another spring, soon enough? Pain, too, passed with time, a minor inconvenience in a universe of possibilities.
Yet sometimes, when a thorn would catch her skin and leave a jagged, crimson mark down her palm, she would feel her heart flutter in sudden, swift beats of terror, and sometimes, though only in dreams, that beat was the only thing to distract her from the footsteps behind.