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The ground was cold on the hillside, snow crunching under her bare frost bitten feet. Heart beating out of her chest, as she continued slipping and falling against trees in an unworthy attempt to save herself. She was all too aware of the hunter at her heels, he was after her heart.
A heart, no longer for romance or to keep her alive, but to be ripped from her chest and thrown to the feet of a queen who sat on an icy throne of bloodshed.
She could hear him closer now, he was merely a few yards from her. She tries to run faster but only continues to trip over her own two feet that she can no longer feel, the cold creeping up her legs. However, her efforts were to no avail, tripping for the final time as he stood over her, drawing his hunting knife from its sheath. She tried to get up and run like a scared animal fleeing a predator. He grabbed her arm and threw her to the ground, straddling her. She fought as best she could until he dropped the knife, taking her hands in his and tying them as if she were some pig being prepared for slaughter. No, it wasn't only as if, but she was a pig for slaughter. She no longer had a chance. No longer had more of a life to live. She heard of the Queen’s brutal instructions. Heard how she wanted her gutted alive. This hunter, he would do it exactly how she asked of him. Even if it couldn’t be proved otherwise.
He grabbed his knife, slipping it to the collar of her white dress and slicing it down the center, the back of the cold blade running along her skin sending goosebumps across her already cold body. From the bottom of the slit he cut outwards and meticulously folded back the fabric to expose her chest, all while she struggled against her restraints. He was skilled with a knife and for what was instructed, he would need to be. She cried out for help, knowing there was no point, her heart was beating fast.
She bit her tongue, as he took his knife slowly, pressing the point to the side of her stomach and dragging it across, hard enough to draw a thin line of blood, but not enough to cut deep. He was marking it out, just as instructed. The knife once again landed on her skin, this time on her collarbone, he dragged it across them, her face twisting in pain and his in a wicked grin. He was enjoying this. Blood started to drip every few seconds. Rolling down the side of her stomach staining pieces of her dress as he watched. The knife came down to the center of the slit at her collar bones and marked all the way down to the center of the line of blood on her stomach. He stabbed the knife into the snow, lifting himself enough to turn her on her stomach. She kicked and struggled as he did so. The cold snow stung her front numbing her coldly as he cut the bodice of the white dress from her. Her back was now exposed and the knife was running down her spine lightly. Her heart was pounding out of her chest. She forgot what the instructions were past this, and from here on out had no idea what he was gonna do.
Screaming, the knife slowly pressed into her lower back just left of her spine, blood started pooling and running down spilling onto the snow, the white background turning a dark crimson. He roughly pulled out the blade, lining it to the other side of her spine, slowly and deeply stabbing it into her. She gritted her teeth and horsley cried out. Blood pooled, flowing down her sides. Her pale skin was like a blank sheet of paper that had ink spilled over it. The blood was a warm contrast to the cold air that surrounded her. He slowly pulled out the knife, more blood flowing out with it. A small halo of red started to incircle her waist, staining the snow. Once again flipping her over, her breathing was labored as snow was sticking and melting around her back. The small slits he had made before had smeared blood around them, snow melting against her skin, turning the blood ever so slightly thinner. It ran down her sternum and down the side of her stomach leaving a light pink colored trail behind it. She was struggling to breath at this point. He took his knife, pressing it to the intersection of the lines down her abdomen and across her collarbones, he pushed in it just enough to get through the skin, yet not damage anything. Red poured over her chest as he slowly dragged the knife down her, stopping at the line on her stomach. He was trained and careful with the blade, like a sadistic surgeon. She was hardly breathing at this point, the pain was so excruciating. She was a goner, but that did stop her from trying to move her limbs one last time, failing miserably. He gently ran the knife over her skin, like one would spread butter on bread. The blood moved almost like a gentle wave forcing blood to flow over her neck and stain the snow around her head.
The knife now cut deeper at her collar bones, making a T shaped gash on her front, then was repeated on her stomach. Her snow white skin was now slicked with red. She was still breathing to the hunter's surprise, yet had passed out from the pain, but he continued. He slid the knife horizontally under her skin, peeling it back to see her organs. This is where she would finally die. He delicately moved his hand behind her ribs, carefully feeling through the moving flesh until he reached her beating heart. His fingers carefully covered it, using his knife to cut veins and arteries connecting to it. Feeling it finally stop beating in his hands, he pulled it out of her chest. He set it on her torn bodice, setting an almost poetic scene as he grabbed a blue bag, embroidered with a gold crown. It was made just big enough for a heart. Her heart. A heart that would never beat, never love, never live.
All to be thrown at the feet of a queen on an icy throne, crafted by her own bloodshed and horrific orders.