As the sound of wet footsteps staggered closer to her hiding place, she cursed herself for not aiming better. It was injured though, and surely that had to count for something even in a place as damned as this, even after years of perfect kills and well-protected hideouts. Surely she'd live through this.
Surely she wouldn't be so amateurish as to fixate on a single sound and forget to pay attention to her surroundings in case her angry not-so-dead friend had attracted company. Surely she'd realise that the prickly feeling on the back of her neck meant she was being watched from behind and should run while there was still time.
Surely she'd live through this, right?
All this and more passed through her head as did several sets of teeth.
By the time the injured one had found what little of her was left, she was practically stone cold.
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