It was then when she stopped feeling the graze of the floor beneath, her legs frantically flailing in the void. She kept running, as the headache worsened, and closed her eyelids to at least momentarily escape the white torture. She jolted to resume her neverending quest into nothingness, when she noticed her body was, for the first time, heathing up. There was an instant of stillness, and an intense pain suddenly pierced her temples, as a predator’s jaws clenching onto her skull. Desperation took the best of the solenodon, and her snout pointed at the ceiling in a loud wail, a grief-filled call that failed to echo. And she saw them, not dark and solid, but breaking down into several translucent phantoms as if her sole integrity was being smeared away. She stopped on her tracks and looked down at her paws, in the sheer need of contemplating a point of hetereogeneity in that pied Hell. But the smell of blood, this time, would hit her nose in waves so strong, that she felt her head dance around her neck. She kept going, always to the front, her eyes permanently scanning the place, looking for anything that might remotely resemble a finish line. Yucca's paws hit the monotonous white floor, leg muscles stretching and compressing at a steady pace.
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