• Mist was only 7 years old, short for her age with a long, slender neck and pale skin with moss green eyes. Her hair was a deep, dark brown shade, strait and layered.
    She was wearing a plain, knee-length white dress with short sleeves. Today she was walking through the woods, which were now grey and dying, carrying her shoes in one hand, a small bag filled with some of her belongings in the other. She had just ran away from home three days ago, before her mother got married. The man who her mom was marrying came over to they’re house daily, and, while Mist’s mom wasn’t looking, would hit Mist, but was careful to not leave any marks. And, really, he only wanted the family fortune.
    Mist was from a rich family that lived in a mansion in a little posh town, but because Mist was a young girl, she was rarely let outside without a bodyguard. And she didn’t go to school; she had a private tutor who taught her at home, so she didn’t have any friends.
    She stumbled over a tree root and hit her head on a tree-trunk, hard. She felt the skin of her nose tear slightly as her face brushed the rough bark. She cried out.
    This never—never—happened to her! It hurt when her mother’s future-husband hit her, but this pain was intolerable! She’d never hurt her face like this. But it had happened, and now Mist heard her pulse in her own ears.
    Why, why, why, why, why, thought Mist, putting her hand on her injured nose. And, she just realized, she had no idea where the nearest town was. She got up quickly, then ran the way she thought she came. But after a few minutes, she came right back to the little area she fell, seeing one of her shoes, which she had dropped when she had fallen.
    “WHY?!” Screamed Mist, throwing her other shoe at a tree. Than she saw a small tunnel of trees with light at the end. Hope enveloping her, she ran toward it, not caring as the tree branches scratched her face and arms, catching her hair, or the bushes grabbing and tearing her dress, she just wanted out. And she got out.
    Except, it wasn’t exactly what she wanted.
    She burst out of the woods and onto a cobble road blocked by a fallen tree. Her breath came out in icy puffs, and she wrapped her arms around herself, trying to protect herself from the cold.
    “Hey, Kid!” said a sudden voice from behind her. “Ya cold?” Mist whirled around. It was a man, unusually tall and so thin that she could’ve mistaken him for a skeleton. He wore an old grey suit, a black tie, and old black boots. He reached a hand out to her.
    “Follow me, I can find you a nice, warm place to stay.” To tired and cold to think, she grabbed his hand. But when she did, he turned paler than death, and his eyes started to bulge. Before she could blink, blood spurted from behind his eyes, from his nose, and his mouth. His skin started to bulge, and in a second, he disappeared into dust.
    Mist stood there, covered in blood, her hand holding air. Did she just do that? It had happened so fast—too fast. And as she breathed in, an unearthly stench filled her nostrils, and she coughed.
    And now she was warm, but as she looked at herself, she realized that the man’s blood had already frozen solid. She didn’t understand, why was she now warm after that. Something had happened that she didn’t—and she thought, probably wouldn’t ever—understand. Looking in both directions, she quickly ran, following the road.
    Than she decided. I am a carrier of something terrible, and if I touch anyone, they will die like that, just like that man, she thought. And as she ran, she didn’t notice the cloud-like shadow flitting through the woods after her.
    Five years later, she turned 12, and “lived” in a small, sad town called Rainsville. And on a night, she felt horrible, she had just killed a newly wed couple that’d taken her in, and they’re newborn baby, too. Her stomach wrenched, and she staggered into an alleyway. And as she did, a biscuit hit her right between the eyes, and two stray cats stared up at her, swishing they’re tails irritably. Carefully, she grabbed the biscuit and set it on the ground. The cats greedily pounced on it.
    Mist squinted; then, she saw the end of the alley, which opened to a dimly lit street. Standing next to a lamp was a tall, thin figure. Feeling her stomach wrenching harder, she hobbled towards the person.
    As she came up behind him, she saw that he was gaping at a carriage as it whirled around a corner.
    Her heart pounding hard, she reached a shivering hand towards the person, grabbing onto his coat. He twirled around quickly. He had a pretty face, pale, with a slight brush of freckles on his nose, and short curly black hair. But what she found most amazing was his eyes, which were amber brown.
    Shivering, she choked out three words; “Please . . . help me . . .”
    And her vision blurred, and everything went black.
    She woke up as a smoldering heat hit her body. Gasping, her eyes flicked open and she sat bolt upright, splashing some water out of what appeared to be a tub. She heard someone cry out, than a thump of a body landing on a floor. She looked up and saw the pale boys face, and he smiled at her, a shine of relief in his beautiful eyes. Behind him, there appeared to be a writhing figure.
    “Are you okay?” asked the pale boy. He had a sweet voice, sweet like honey. Mist nodded and tried to attempt a smile. But her face remained emotionless. Carefully, the boy reached into the tub and pulled her out.
    “Good. I’d thought that you had died.” there was no hiding the pure relief in his voice. Mist stared at him blankly, her moss green eyes never-blinking. He smiled.
    “Come on, you must be starving. I think there’s some soup in the kitchen.” Picking Mist up like a princess, he carried her out of the room toward what must’ve been the kitchen. And as Mist looked over his shoulder, she saw another boy, who looked almost perfectly identical to the one who was carrying her, who stared at her like a wolf might a rabbit, holding his hand over his nose.