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Summary
She could hear the hounds after her, tall grass slapping her face, soil and fresh snow beneath her pads. Her small body ran as fast as it possibly could, her now oh-so-tiny heart beating intensely in her fragile ribcage. Eventually, the noises faded, dogs called back to their masters, horses trotting slowly. Still, panic flooded in her mind as she ran without thinking. When her legs gave out under her own weight, she fell to the ground and wheezed, small squeaks escaping her throat as she morphed back, her bare skin freezing against the snow. She folded on herself, trying to keep what was left of the warmth she could have before forcing herself up on her feet. She hated when that happened, shapeshifting. As a witch, it was one of her numerous capacities, but it almost always left her aching but also naked, her clothes discarded behind as her body morphed.
She walked home, her fingers and toes turning blue as she forced herself to withstand the freezing cold. She was in excruciating pain at their location and could hardly feel them anymore. After perhaps an hour or more of agonizing walking, the house finally came into view.