in a state of constant wonder
*I've never written a story like this from two points of view before, but I'm hopin' it's schweet!*
She was running, running, running, her feet pounding the hard, cracked cement, in rhythm to the drums beating inside her head, over and over, step, boom, step, boom.
The night behind her was gaining, eating up the sunlight every second, snapping at her heels with a cold wind only winter could bring with it. The icicles hanging off everything around her sang eerily with the winter.
It was a fact of life for Autumn; soon winter would catch up with her, as a cheetah always catches its prey. The winter would bring her down with a force to be afraid of, dragging her down by the hem of her dress of colorful, vibrant leaves. The gold would fade as her life drained out of her, strengthening the winter even more.
The thought made her push harder, the drums inside her head beating faster, until she was fleeing midnlessly, flying through the sky, a trail of golden leaves following as her feet lifted off the pavement, leafy wings exploding from her back. Autumn was flying as the sky darkened and the cold wind harshly brushed her cheek. She forced her new wings to beat harder, but it was to no avail. Winter was upon her.
Autumn fell limp in the sky, folding her blood red wings back to her body, plummeting from the sky to greet the hard pavement. She did not flinch as she made impact, simply waited for what was to happen next.
December pounced, and Autumn was no more.
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December was ready for the hunt, her face cold as ice, her breath chilling to the bone. Her fingernails, long and clean, raked against the trees, stripping them of bark and draining the color from the leaves on the ground as she walked through the forest.
She was ready for the hunt, the bow in her hand and a quiver of arrows upon her back. She would leap upon the autumn and take over, her cold reign terrible and beautiful.
She saw autumn from where she flew, fleeing, her dress caught helplessly in December's grip. As Autumn unfurled her wings and flew, ever weakening, Decmeber released her full fury.
Autumn was dead.
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