Hurts. Everything hurts. Since the day she'd been captivated by the lake's water, since she'd consumed it; the simple act of walking grew exhausting, just like when her limb had been shattered.

The debilitating pain grew to insatiable hunger—hunger that she could not satisfy, for her body would not obey her. Cvetka could feel the pits of her stomach growing. Undulating against the perpetual agony, twisting and churning with the vicious cycle of being paralyzed by pain, yet so, so hungry.

What was once so docile had been changed. Tongue lolling out of her mouth, her body drawing forward with heavy, desperate steps—she was ravenous. No longer did she care for the serenity of nature. Her instincts, which begged her to sit, to think.

She was beyond that.

It was evident in the way she did not wait for the hare's screams to halt. Teeth tore, throat rumbled; the hunger was to be satiated, even at the expense of this life. It suffered. But she would not care. She could not care.

There were rustles nearby. Fur along Cvetka's spine bristled like a wind-whipped field. Her gaze snapped up, her head rose, a pretty face besmirched by stains of deep crimson.