Blythe heard voices - angry voices, commanding ones. But in the dark maze, stumbling through the snow, all she focused on were the sounds of her hands running against the brambled hedges. She knew this maze like the back of her hand, even in her crazed state. All she wanted, in this moment, was to escape the sound of their blood coursing through her. The urge was dead, but the flame for flesh was still ignited in her. She knew what she was capable of, and this was why she fled.
Taking turns, backtracking, and trying to keep Kain and Morana confused, she took a turn too quickly, her shoe twisting out from under her. Crying out, she stumbled and fell to her knees. Now she was cold, rabid, aching, and dealing with a sprained ankle. Crawling over to a corner, she pressed herself up against the hedges and curled into a ball, hoping that if anyone came near, they wouldn't see her. And that they would move past her quickly enough that she wouldn't get caught up in her sensations and try to kill them.