They had been running for what felt to her, hours now when, in reality, it had not been but minutes of breathless, furious pursuit, fleeing from the town they had only just arrived that morn, with Ciri feverishly trailing after her as the enchantress grasped and gripped at her forearm, urging her onwards frantically, her breath coming in shallow, sharp gasps that were brutally torn from the back of her throat. Her eyes, assuming an ardent, dark purple colour, were two furious shards of glass, cuttingly penetrating every thing around them as she madly rationed her gaze over her shoulder and all around them, making sure they were far enough, swift enough so that Ciri would escape; so that she had time enough to prepare for what would surely come next: for nothing would hurt her, Yennefer swore with feverish intent that had her arms trembling from the tension that she was imposing upon her body. She was numb all over; her legs ached unbearably, but she kept running, fiercely casting spell after spell to summon portal after portal after portal as they were hunted down.
Run! she screamed over the roaring of her furious magic as they leapt through another portal from a castle to dark, cold woods, feeling her blood pound in her ears and her vision blur as they were violently spat out with Ciri tumbling forcibly against the bark of a tree and someone leaping at her, the only one remaining of their pursuers (surely, another mage to have made it this far). Yennefer felt her heart rise in her throat, and in a breathless, furious moment of panicked fear, she leapt forwards, throwing herself at them.
The sorceress violently raised a hand and screamed a spell. Forceful spirals shot from her hands with a furious hiss, bursting into flames that powerfully shot forward as she tumbled with them onto the ground, fighting for control. No! she hissed menacingly, like a cornered viper, her hands trembling as she bared her teeth in a display of frantic, intense intention, meaning to fully and wholly annihilate this threat. Nothing would touch her daughter; she would gladly die if she had to, but first she would snuff out the very breath from their lungs, making sure not even a hair upon Cirilla's head was touched. Pathetic, twisted little witch! thought she maliciously, anger flaring in every curve and angle of her face, terribly flushed and malefic in the shadows that were cast upon it from her own fire as she looked down upon the witch, swiftly recognizing her. She gasped maliciously, struggling for control as she ruthlessly moved her hand—flaming with her Chaos— towards her face, hissed, darkly, breathlessly, ❝ You would fight me? You?❞ her words spat like venom through her teeth as she used all of her power to keep her pressed to the ground beneath her, hearing as Ciri scuffled away in a hurry, hearing her little fearful breaths as she screamed her name, panic in her throat.