Sans Merci could barely raise herself from the cold ground when he left. But she wouldn't let some b*****d get the best of her, if she had to die (not that she should) let it be by a mare's hoof instead of a stallion. Blood was hot in her mouth, she spit out a broken tooth and took a deep breath before forcing herself to her feet.
Her weak legs shook beneath her but she forced herself forward. Each step was a staggering pain that ripped through her. She came to a stream first and collapsed in it while drinking.
The cold water finally roused her from a stupor and when she started to move again, she could feel the ice freezing to her skin. But she was stronger than that, stronger than him. As much as she hated it, she stuck close to the water, following it and when she found herself a slow moving fish she struck. She swallowed it nearly whole, the bitter taste of it making her throat burns. There was nothing so wretched as fish, it was a poor hunter's food. Cold blood was never as good as the pulsing warm blood of fresh victims. She would make that stallion rue the day she'd had to eat fish like some filthy cat.
Sheer hate drove her onwards. She had to keep her blood moving or die, and she would not allow him to be her killer. Finally, she made it some rocky cliffs and not far away, a small dark cave that she'd visited before. She would recover here.
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