Death of a traitor
One minute I am running through the darkness, the next minute I am smacking face first into what feels like a cold brick wall. Half choking on my own breath, I scream with a noise that is neither human nor animal. But that scream is soon cut short as soon as a familiar scent hits my nose- the sweet smell of roses against the skin and the lingering sweetness of a familiar type of blood.
"Hey," coo's the voice, a steady hand coming to rest behind my head, holding me tight. With fingers entwined through my hair, he pulls me closer to him, deeper into that heavy scent of roses and the tang of the forest. "You are okay, I've got you darling," murmurs the tall, dark figure, their arms pressing around me, gentle and surprisingly warm. Then a little quiver of alarm shoots through them.
"Goodness, you are bleeding- and there is a knife in your calf! My little dove, are you not hurt?"