Blood and snow was a beautiful mixture for a painting; unless you weren't holding the brush. You tried to keep quiet, the chills down your spine only growing as you wandered through the pine forest. The silence weighed down on you as thick as the mist. But it was hard to keep quiet when you kept stumbling, your mind blurry from the pain shooting up your leg. On your way on the path, you'd seen a flash of red in the trees. It had startled you enough to make you stumble back- with your luck, into a rock that sent you tumbling down a hill. You covered your mouth in one hand in an attempt to quiet your breath. Another flash of red in the trees. You were being stalked. The trail of blood at your feet was only a signature of your death looming towards you.