169 Bloodthirsty.

Raziah had woken up countless times, but never found the strength to push herself from the bed before another wave of unconsciousness hit her again. It happened so many times that she had lost count. Her limbs felt limb, and moving had never been so hard for her. It was unbearable.

In her unconsciousness, she found herself in that field of nothing but mist, cold, and snow. Alone, she sat down in the middle for what seemed like days. There was never day or night here. The sun never came out. Even if it did, the mist was too thick for its rays to pierce through...or maybe it's all in her head since it's just a reoccurring dream.