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The lioness darted through the woods, feeling her knapsack beat against her back with every loose step in the mud. The roof of wet leaves flew by overhead, large droplets lighting up in the pale glow of her lamp before landing under her paws.

She didn't quite know why she was running. She was not being chased and the footing was precarious. The cold rain made her fur heavy, and she was growing tired, yet she couldn't stop. Or maybe she just didn't want to.

The lamp glowed brightly in her grasp, lighting the path with a cold shimmer. Sometimes she felt like it was alive. Maybe it was; the auctioneer she'd bought it from had only said it was "magic." All she knew was that she felt a certain kinship with the flickering flame beyond the glass, and she'd sometimes imagined it was her friend.

She didn't have too many of those.

The rain and lightning made most Keidran terrified, but it didn't bother her for some reason. Whenever she brought the magic light, she felt like she would be fine, as the way forward was as visible as daylight.

A flash of lightning painted the forest as she took a right turn, down a muddy slope. With unnaturally calm nerves, she surfed down the hill at a speed that should be unnerving.

Then, just as the crack of thunder split her senses, her paw slipped. She tilted, flailed for balance, and went into a tumble when she failed to find it. Time seemed to skip right before she hit the ground. She should have seen the sharp branch. She should have managed to brace before falling onto it. She should have managed to stop her fall before it impaled her.

In the next moment she was on the ground, soaked and cold, with a horrifying pain in her stomach, as if something had stabbed her all the way through.

She took a moment to regain herself. It didn't feel like any of her bones were broken, all she had were a few bruises and...

She looked down and felt her blood freeze to ice. Out of her gut stuck a broken branch. It was already soaked red, drops of blood dripping from the splintered end.

The lion had never been stabbed before. She hadn't expected it to make her feel so dizzy and drained. It was like poking a hole in a balloon, and now she felt all deflated. It wasn't even all that painful, just disorienting. Getting back up on her knees left her nauseous and

Another flash of lightning turned everything white, and by the time the thunder came rolling over the woods, she'd grabbed hold of the branch and yanked it out.

And there was the pain. Over the roaring noise of thunder, she hardly heard herself gasp as her fur was stained deep red by a gush of blood. Her world running white with pain, she hardly saw the branch land on the ground. She clutched at the wound with a trembling hand, but the flow only grew stronger. She staggered back, slipped once again in the treacherous mud, and finally came to rest with her back against a tree, slumped on the ground.

She looked down again, and realized she would have to act fast; the branch must have pierced something it really shouldn't have, and she was in grave danger. If she couldn't staunch the flow fast, she would not live to see the morning.

With fingers that were already growing cold and stiff, she grabbed hold of her undershirt and tore it in half. Her arms were already growing weaker, but still strong enough to tear the fabric. Watching the blood pool on the ground, she wrapped the cotton around herself once. Twice. Halfway through the third round, it was tight enough to tie up.

The white shirt turned red in a few seconds, the flow of blood unhindered by her frantic efforts. She tried to tighten it further, but her fingers slipped, slick with blood and too stiff and clumsy.

She was going to die. The realization hit her like a sledgehammer. Death wasn't something she'd thought about often, as she'd been more concerned with simply avoiding it than pondering over what it actually meant. That she would never see the sun break above the rain-coated meadows after the storm. That she would never wake up for another day, wondering what it would bring her. The fear was not quite what could be called panic, but rather a haze that descended on her mind as she gasped for breath, the taste of metal creeping into the corners of her mouth.

She supposed she should be sad. Or maybe annoyed that it had been to something as stupid and tiny as a branch. But for now she was only scared and confused.

She leaned back against the trunk of the tree. Only now did she notice how cold it was. With her sodden fur clinging to her skin and her chest no longer warmed by the exertion of running, she felt every raindrop as a tiny stab of ice.

As her vision began to grow wavy, the fear finally started to sink in.

This was it.

All alone in a dark forest, this was how it was going to end.

She made one last attempt at getting back up, and got no further than halfway to an upright position before her body gave out, exhausted. Whatever the branch had pierced, it must have been very important, she concluded hazily.

The lioness closed her eyes and stared at the incoming blackness. It was much darker and scarier than looking at the inside of her own eyelids, the void encompassing much more than the dampened light of shut eyes. It overwhelmed her, consuming all her senses. The noises of rain on leaves faded, the warmth of flowing blood and the cold of a windy summer night growing distant and muffled under the crushing darkness. She shivered, and wished she was in her bed on a warm morning, or in a field in the sunny evening.

But most of all, the woman wished she wasn't so alone.

Through her brief life, she had never known too much contact. An introvert at heart, she'd spent most of her time away from other people, not wanting to bother them with herself, or perhaps not to bother herself with them.

And now, in what seemed to be her final moments, she wished she'd had someone to talk to. Or maybe just be there with her, a fellow presence in the dark.

There was a light dancing on her eyelids. Beyond the reach of the dark, a faded blue glow lit up the night.

The young woman made a strenuous effort to open her eyes again. It took her a few seconds, as they were suddenly made of lead, but after a moment she found herself staring at the dark, rainy clearing yet again. The woods were murky and foggy as before, but in the middle of her vision there was that strange ethereal shimmer. It took her a bit longer than she'd liked to identify it as the lamp she'd dropped. One of her few truly valuable belongings. It was lying in the mud, glowing brighter than before, as if the magic flame was trying to escape from the glass.

"I'm hallucinating" was the first thought that crossed the lioness' hazy mind, trying to explain this phenomenon. "I'm already dead" was the second, but that one didn't seem quite as likely.

As she wrestled with this, the light flickered and moved through a crack in the glass frying a few raindrops on the way out. Then it hovered quietly in the air, like a trapped animal let out of its cage for the first time.

Oh. Magic.

The flame twisted awkwardly in the rain, white streaks of illuminated rain phasing through it before hitting the ground. It was an otherworldly sight, one that the lioness was happy she got to see, even with her fading eyes.

Then the flame turned towards her, in the sense that a flame could have a front side. The light grew a little brighter, a little warmer as it closed in on her face, as if it knew she was suffering. And maybe it did; it was magical, after all.

A tired sigh left the lion's lips, and her eyelids grew too heavy to keep open. The world faded, only this time she wasn't alone. The light persisted even when her eyes were shut, the shapeless form glowing beside her in the abyss. It floated up to her face, warming her cold, limp whiskers.

The strange being radiated not only warmth, but also a strong sadness. No words were said, no sound was made, but the lioness still felt it: the wisp of light was grieving.

The magical heat grew stronger, until it almost took physical form. It was like a hand was stroking her cheeks, spreading warmth through her dying body.

You're grieving for me.

The thought floated through her muddied mind, and she knew it must be true. And as if it could hear her thoughts, the wisp flickered and embraced her.

Emotions that could not be described to living beings washed over the dying keidran. Grief, loneliness and something akin to longing welled out of the ethereal being and onto her, burning out her own fear of death. But along with the feelings from the wisp came an overwhelming sense of kinship: They were both sitting at the edge of the abyss, but at least they were doing it together, and that made it much less terrifying.

The sadness that seeped from the wisp was bottomless, and the lioness wished she could do something to ease it. But her arms were too heavy to return the embrace, her mouth too tired to speak. She was so very tired.

Though it seemed the creature understood, as it moved up and down in what could by a mortal humanoid be interpreted as "I understand", and hugged her tighter.

The darkness returned, as it had before the wisp had escaped the lamp. It came rolling in over the keidran like a starless night rolls over the horizon, pitch-black and endless. This was the end, and she knew it; her mouth had stopped breathing, her heart coming to rest in her chest.

But she was not afraid. When she entered the void, she would at least not be doing it alone. The otherworldly light was with her, a guide through the twilight. In her last moments, she had a friend to watch over her and keep her company, and that was more than most people got.

The lioness smiled, and went to sleep.