It was an odd realization, but there it was: the arrows stopped. These were no gun-wielding thugs, this wasn't a drive-by. This was a battle to the death or retreat, and Lisa had won. The hammer hung lazily from her hand and its glow faded. Snowflakes had made their way through the canopy falling lightly on its metal head.
Lisa pressed onward through the forest, with her sense ever so slightly more attuned, more aware for another ambush of knife-toothed monsters, of arrows and cleavers and near death and destruction. Had she enjoyed the rush of battle, she dare not ask herself, not really. Like the danger she had met before in her neighborhood, the danger that came from living in poverty and sin, she was filled with a mix of anxiety and excitement and like before it did not fade. Lisa knew from experience the process of coming down from the natural high could take hours, and in the meantime she was happy for its urges. Keep going, keep looking, fix the problem, don't think about how one arrow missed you only by a few inches, don't think about the stains on the weapon, they must have been blood. Keep going, you have to be safe, keep going, the arrows have stopped.
The forest path opened into a learning and her boots found no snow there to protect her swollen and abused feet from. In the middle of the clearing was not more enemies, more monsters, more sharp-toothed demons as her heart was sure there would be as soon as the light from above no longer hit the canopy and made clear what was in the clearing. Clear and distinct in front of her was somethign she knew well: a party.
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