Wild Hunt -- a short story

[Lady Magpie]

The following post is a short piece I wrote recently that I'd like some feed back on. The character is part of a much greater, longer story, with its own plot and everything. THis is mostly a background piece, but I wanted to know if it could possibly work on its own, and I also would like feedback, (please? ) on my writing in general.

Thanks!

-magpie/lizzy

[Lady Magpie]

Sunlight streamed through the leaves and heavy, dark branches of the forest. There was no man-made path, this far in, in this place, but she could find her way through, and could avoid the thickest parts. A few times she had to leap over logs in the way or duck to avoid low-hanging branches, but some sense of the place let her move through.
As she went farther, brambles began to tear at her clothes and hair. She ignored it; even the scratches she got on her arms and face and feet as she ran through some salmonberries. She didn't feel it. She felt only the forest around her, its spirit, and the chase as she ran. The wind on her face and in her hair.
There was a stream. She did not hesitate; she could see, in the back of her mind, the safe path across. Her bare feet touched the rocks, some dry and one an inch under the water. They were warmed from the sun. Then back on the dirt, and the plants.
She did not know how long she had been running; time was never normal for her and now she had no sense of it at all. Just the hunt. Only the running and the trees and the challenge before her.
At some point she felt it was getting more and more difficult to breathe.
But she could not stop. Would not give up.
She ran further, noticing things like where water was, and where the sun hit her back for a second and where the rocks were, and how best to get through.
She noticed the deer stopping to watch her, not scared, just interested. They knew she was not hunting them. She noticed a rabbit once—did not see it but felt its presence, watching her intently. She noticed the color of the light on the trees.
Eventually, the challenge to keep breathing was getting to her. She was slowing down. It was harder to see the paths. She was getting tired.
But I will make it. I will not give up.
At one point a root got the best of her, and she tripped, falling face first on the dirt and rocks. She took a deep breath and felt every muscle screaming at her to rest, her lungs demanding a break. But if she stopped now, she lost. Temptation tugged at her. Rest, rest, it said. Rest and you will be able to breathe, to feel other things again, to just sit back and enjoy the forest. Let the forest swallow you up, isn't it a nice forest, lovely trees here, you like it here...
She jumped up and kept running, a determined grin spreading across her face. For a moment, she could see the paths clearly in her mind, sharp and well defined. For that moment, she could breathe normally, and felt full of energy.
The moment passed quickly. Again she knew how tired she was getting; the knowledge, that feeling, it crept into her mind that was supposed to contain only the chase.
The sun had moved far since she had started, and now she could see the pink in the sky, through the leaves. It would grow dark soon.
She kept running.
A thorn caught her in the foot, digging into the flesh. She was leaving more than a trail of trampled leaves and scent. Now there was a trail of her blood, as it dripped, dark cobalt, from her foot as she ran across the land. She caught the smell, not the pain. She barely felt the thorn but could sense the sharp metallic scent and she turned to glance at the ground.
No. Must keep on the trail. Almost there.
She ran. She ignored the pain of the stitch in her side, barely feeling it. Barely felt her lungs scream. Forced her mind.
It grew dark. She crossed another stream, this time losing her footing for a moment and slipping into the cold, cold water only so far from its glacier. Her arms waved about, as she tried to maintain her balance. The had splashed up, soaking the already tattered leg of her pants. She stood there for moment, getting frustrated and angry. She was beginning to feel things, getting miserable. Tired. So, so tired, so sick of this running, wondering why she had ever made this challenge.
She threw back her head and screamed, shrill and angry, stomping her foot into the gravelly streambed, cutting her foot on a sharp rock. The deep blue blood swirled about in the water. Despair was reaching its hooks into her heart.

[Lady Magpie]

No.
She ran.
She ran, blindly now, her senses dulled, unable to see the paths anymore, too tired to make her mind work. She ran.
She ran right into the path of a cougar.
It stared at her, pausing. This was something new. . .
She stopped in her tracks, looking the creature in the eyes. She stared at it, holding perfectly still, standing tall as she could, at her full 5 feet 2 inches.
It stared back, yellow eyes wide, large black pupils and tawny fur, standing in the last of the evening's light.
She glared, boring deep into its eyes with her mind.
The mountain lion slowly backed away and let her on.
She smiled to herself, enjoying the brief victory, and ran on.
It did not follow. It had a fairly good idea of what she was about, just as the deer did. It would not disturb her.
She was glad for not yet having to touch the sharp hunting knife that hung on her belt, worn over the short green dress (now looking something awful, filthy and ripped in places).
Still unable to see the paths, she ran, as the first stars appeared in the sky. Once she glanced up and saw the moon, bright and silver.
She felt she could go on no further. There was no way she could possibly have the energy to continue. The small victories and the adrenalin would not give her enough. She was so tired. But she did not want to think what would happen if she lost.
She stumbled again, but stayed mostly on her feet and kept running, slower and slower as she went on.
Her night vision was good enough, but her mind was too tired to continue seeing anything of the paths, and as she ran on she was having trouble seeing normally even.
It was when she was running completely blindly, narrowly avoiding trees only by sense of touch, that she burst through a tangle of branches and out into a clearing, full of tall grasses and a large rock or three, with the moonlight shining down onto her. She did not stop running for a moment, too tired to see anything at first. She only stopped running when she felt hands on her shoulders, stopping her. She looked up into familiar eyes, glanced around long enough to take in her surroundings, and collapsed on the ground.
"Lady Liseth, congratulations."
She was having a hard time getting enough air into her lungs. She forced herself to roll over and look up at her brother. She acknowledged him that much and then waited until she was breathing at a slightly more normal rate—this took around five minutes—to speak to him.
"Indris. I did it."
"So you did." He smiled, and knelt on the ground beside her. "You want to go home now?"
She nodded. He helped her up, and she tried to take a few stumbling steps. He sighed, and, almost effortlessly, threw her over his shoulder. She was too tired to protest, as he carried her back across the field to a small circle of trees. "Just don't tell father I let you do this, okay?" He set her down in the middle of the circle, and looked at her sternly, the way only an older brother can—and in this case, he had about a thousand years on her.
She just rolled her eyes. "He won't know. Y'know, Indris?"
"Yes, little sister?" He took a small stone hanging on a string out of his pocket. The world around them seemed to shift. They were back in Faerie.
"That was fun."
"Glad you thought so. Don't do it again."

[Earniel]

Interesting story.

The short sentences work very well to relay mood of the story in my opinion, it adds to the idea that she's focussed on her goal and that has no time to pay any attention to many other things.

The had splashed up, soaking the already tattered leg of her pants.

I take it there's a word missing here.

I'm curious, does the title refer to the myth of the wild hunt?