“Fine.” She spat, anger flushed under her skin. Her teeth sank itself onto her tongue, blood dripping down her chin and unto the snow. The blood was warm and bright but the snow was as white as her skin Arabella realized. Her veins visible and blue as if they were filled with corn flower petals rather than the blood on the snow. Her senses came back slowly but steadily, filling her head like the sand of an hour glass.
‘Half turned,’ she thought.