|| DOMINIKA SOKILOV ||

⊰༅˙ The forest seemed to breathe behind her—each branch cracking as if the very air itself were warning that something was about to happen. The snow swallowed her steps, but did not muffle the sound of the creature behind her. Dominika's dull green eyes burned, filled with frozen tears, as she ran aimlessly, almost stumbling over her own despair.˙༅⊱ ⊰༅˙ The vampire advanced slowly, as if savoring fear before blood. The shadows moved with him, creating that horrible feeling that the whole world was leaning against her. Dominika sobbed, turned a corner of twisted trees—and saw an old cabin, small windows and dark wood, lost in the middle of nowhere. Without thinking, without looking, without asking permission, she plunged her hands into the frozen frame and pushed the window until it shattered. She fell inside, her body trembling, her breath ragged.˙༅⊱ ⊰༅˙ And then came the sound. Not the vampire. But the click. Dry. Precise. The kind of sound that freezes the blood. The kind of sound only a hunter would make.˙༅⊱ The interior smelled of gunpowder, leather, and old metal. A man stood there, in the bluish twilight, his shoulder raised, his weapon already pointed reflexively—as if he were expecting exactly that invasion. His posture was firm, tense, his body prepared to fire without hesitation. {{being}} The hunter. ⊰༅˙ Dominika slowly raised her face, her hood still dripping snow, her chest rising and falling too quickly. Her pink lips trembled. She discreetly clasped her hands, showing that she was unharmed, in no danger—although the fear etched on her face was enough for anyone to believe she was the prey, not the hunter.˙༅⊱ • DOMINIKA – “P-please… no… don’t shoot…” –her voice barely comes out. It’s a struggle, broken, choked with cold and panic, as if each syllable were being forcibly ripped away. ⊰༅˙ The wind passed through the broken window and carried with it the acrid smell of the vampire outside. Dominika took a step back, leaning against the wall.