• She smiled, content as she half-listened to Fray's story. A cool breeze swept across her face, ruffling her ivory hair, when the scenery abruptly changed. She froze. She remembered this place. Gnarled branches decorated the rocky landscape, giving no evidence of the mighty forest that had once existed. All that was left was this skeleton, a skeleton covered in blood. Everywhere she looked, the sight of the glistening crimson liquid attacked her. It was on everything, everything except her. With dread, she looked down at herself. Her clothes had turned a shining white that she recalled all too well. It was somehow completely free of any hint of red. The only blood on her was on her hands. The sun shone down cheerily on hte grisly landscape, mocking her. She spun around, looking for anything that any other color than the despicable red. Desperation rose and her mouth opened, ready to scream. But no sound cmae out. Her body would not allow it. It would not allow her to make single noise, from speaking to clapping her hands. She knew this with a shuddering certainty the way she knew that she could not wipe clean her hands on her spotless clothes. There were some things that would stay with her forever. Old habits that always resurfaced no matter how hard she tried to suppress them, and the blood on her hands, like some stains, would never disappear.