I was running. The grass beneath my feet was dead and grey. The sky was black and misty smoke swirled around, making it hard to see. I didn't know why I was running, all I knew was that I couldn't stop. My skin was burning, and when I looked down, my left arm was covered in glowing black marks. The marks were like the ones used to summon or banish spirits and demons. I could see the cut I made on my arm during dinner. It was much deeper and bigger than I had first anticipated, the blood dripping and turning the grey grass red. I ripped off some of my shirt and wrapped it around the wound, desperately trying to stop the bleeding. I didn't stop running, my sides beginning to cramp, my legs screaming in protest. There was laughing. It was an evil, taunting laugh. Whoever it was, they were laughing at my struggle.

"That's right, Memory, keep running. Just run and run and maybe one day you'll outrun the curse." Teased a haunting voice. Despite it's taunts, I didn't stop running. The voice laughed again. "Oh, silly girl. You think you're running from your fate?" I picked up the pace, hoping to outrun the voice. "You're running to it!" The voice declared. Suddenly, my entire body erupted in pain. I fell to my hands and knees, the voice laughing loudly, echoing in my head. The glowing symbols on my arm spread to the rest of me. I glowed brightly and, suddenly, everything around me exploded.

I woke with a start. My sudden movement woke Rory. He blinked a few times then furrowed his eyebrows at me.

"Emmie?" He asked, calling me by the nickname he had used when we were little. "Are you okay?" I was shaking all over, my head buried in my knees. Rory reached out to me. His fingers touched the skin on my left arm and I cried out as fiery pain shot through me. Rory jerked his hand back. I looked at my arm, expecting to see the demonic symbols glowing there. Instead, all I saw was the cut and smeared blood. The blood was all over the sheets and my nightgown. I was frozen in place, paralyzed by fear. Rory gently dragged me to my feet and into the bathroom. He sat me down on the cold floor and checked my temperature. He kissed my right hand and turned to leave the bathroom. I heard him shout for someone then he came back into the room. My arm hurt and my skin felt like it was on fire. My vision was hazy, blurred and black around the edges. I felt Rory beside me, but didn't register anything he said. The sleeve of my dress was cut off and tossed aside. Something cold was pressed up against my arm. I screamed at the pain, kicking my legs and writhing, straining against the strong arms that held me against the bathroom wall. The pain continued as the person scrubbed the blood off my arm and began to tend to the wound. I shoved my free hand into my mouth to try and muffle the screams. All that resulted in was bleeding knuckles. Gentle hands took my hand out of my mouth and cleaned it off, placing a smooth soft cloth in my mouth instead. There was only a slight twinge in my hand compared to the agony in my arm. I felt the rough texture of bandages as they were wrapped around my arm. I coughed out the cloth, leaning over, the coughing scratching at my throat. Blood splattered on the floor and I fell back against the wall, my coughing fit over. I didn't bother opening my eyes, knowing that the sight of blood would only make me feel more sick than I already did. Rory's gentle arms picked me up off the floor and I melted into his embrace. My newly bandaged arm still burned, and the rest of my body was weak and numb from the pain I had endured. Something soft was wrapped around me, my night robe, and I was gently laid down on the bed. I heard Rory's angry voice demand something of the other people in the room, but I couldn't make out what he said. I was drifting in and out of sleep when someone else entered the room. This time, I could understand the shouts.

"This is your fault!" Rory shouted. Sir Turbalowe's voice replied, shocked and defensive.

"She made the cut, not me!" He snapped. I could imagine the look of rage on Rory's face. I fell into a troubled sleep before I could hear the rest of their conversation.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When I woke again, it was dark. I felt much better and was able to raise myself up enough to properly look around my room. Rory was slumped in a chair on the far wall, his chin in his hand, his back slouched. He would undoubtedly wake up with plenty of cramps. I smiled sadly at him and slowly took the covers off of myself. I got out of bed, careful not to use my left arm incase the pain was merely waiting for the right moment, and made my way over to him. I gently pushed him so that he was lying back in the chair, a position that wouldn't have as many consequences, and draped a blanket over him. I silently ran to the bathroom to change into my riding clothes. I pulled on my riding pants and the fancy black shirt I wore with them without using my left arm. I pulled on my father's old jacket and my horse riding boots, which took longer than usual with only my right hand. I pulled my hair back into a ponytail then made my way back to the door of my room. I gave Rory a quick kiss on the cheek before I slipped out the door, thankful that there was no vigil waiting by my room. I crept through the halls, making my way to the stables. I pressed myself up against the wall as a group of soldiers walked by. I fingered the King's Ring my father gave me before he died. It was hanging on a silver chain around my neck; I never took it off. The guards passed and I continued. Once at the stables, I tossed a surprised looking stablehand a gold coin, pressing a finger to my lips. I saddled up my horse, a black and white Appaloosa named Nico, and mounted him. The stablehand handed me the reins.

"Uh, Queen Mnemosne? What should I tell anyone who comes looking for you?" He asked.

"Tell them I needed some fresh air." Then I spurred Nico and rode off. It wasn't raining hard, but the drizzle was enough to make me squint to keep it out of my eyes. Nico kept tossing his head, and he picked his feet up high. I rubbed his shoulder.

"I know, buddy. I hate mud too." I assured him. The thought made me hope Nico didn't decide to buck me off into the wet mud and run. We picked up the pace a bit and I couldn't keep the smile off my face. The cold rain, which was beginning to come down harder, hit my face. Each splash was a reminder that I was human, not some monster. Nico and I were sprinting through the forest a lot faster than we probably should have, but I didn't care. Nico hadn't stretched his legs in a while, and seemed thrilled at the chance, though he much would have preferred it if it were sunny out. I was crouched in the saddle, leaning up over Nico's neck to get the optimal position for speed. I could feel the horse's powerful muscles move beneath me, could hear the rain, wind, and trees as they whipped by, could hear Nico's hooves pound the ground, kicking wet dirt up behind him as he went. We were unstoppable. The voice in my dreams told me I couldn't outrun my curse. Well, maybe I could outride it. If Nico and I just rode and rode, never stopping, maybe, just maybe, the curse would never catch up. The thought put a smug smile on my face and a warm feeling in my stomach. The warm feeling disappeared and was replaced by panic, the smile ripped from my face, when we came upon a steep bank into a rushing river. Nico lost his footing and we slid ungracefully down the bank. Nico's front hooves touched the roaring water and he reared back, splashing the cold liquid everywhere. My clothes were soaked from the rain and the water, the cruel wind blowing full force. It was all I could do to cling to my horse as he tried to find his footing. Nico eventually gave up and tried to jump over the river. We went airborne and nearly landed the uncoordinated jump from a bad position. Nico stumbled, slipping on the other muddy bank that happened to be steep hill downwards. I cried out as he fell forwards. I was thrown off down the hill. I bounced and rolled and fell, every part of me burning with pain. I collided with a tree at the bottom of the hill. My head felt like it was about to burst. When I tried to breathe, a sharp pain erupted in my chest and stomach. I couldn't move, I felt too weak. I saw Nico a few feet up the hill, lying on his side, his saddle twisted around, his chest rising and falling quickly. At least it was still rising and falling. He was smeared with mud and blood. I looked at my hand lying limp in front of my eyes and saw that it too was covered in blood and mud. My world was spinning, everything going black. I had just enough time to wish I had told someone where I was going before I blacked out.