Once the weather got nicer, Datura liked to go out and soak up the sun. Flea markets, farmers markets, street fairs. She loved them all, and often went home with at least one decent-sized bag of goodies.
Today was no different, and she'd been contentedly browsing the stalls for about an hour now. She'd been looking at a stall full of pastries, when she felt something cold slide down the back of her neck. It made her swallow hard, because it was an all too familiar feeling, one she'd never wanted to feel again. Madness felt like grasping hands, trying to pull you down with it, and she wanted-no, needed-to get away as fast as she could.