The air was crisp, it made it easier to slip in and out of her lungs, the ground hard from the early winter that blew down from the mountains, but up there she hoped for freedom, beyond the fringe meant safety, but whatever tailed her had not let up.

Life was supposed to be easier, it was supposed to be good, but it hadn't and Cort was sure that it never would be. Ever since the fall of Grimsthorpe, hell, the fall of Alteron for that matter she had been running. No where was safe and she had to wonder if this was some curse placed upon her. She was sick of it though, sick of running. Her legs nearly giving out on her as she felt her heart nearly burst.

It was only when she found herself chased into a corner, a gorge of rocks, steep cliff face slopes on either side and behind that would prevent her from climbing and she cursed under her breath. Turning only when she felt enough resolve in her heart to face down who her pursuer was. Breath ragged and overall appearance disheveled, Cortana was a far cry from the regal Queen she once had been, but that sharp look in those cold, yet panicked eyes, that look. That wonderful look, in that moment she would've never looked anymore beautiful than she did in that single moment.

"What do you want?!" The hoarse whisper of a banshee against the howling winds that whipped down the the mountains above. Her teeth bared, but she stood unsure, weak. But as two figures stepped out, pupils would widen and a staccato laugh shook her body, once, twice, three times. Absolutely hysterical.