Too late to worry. They hunted in the dark, so she couldn't stop to dry her feet. This whole storm was probably their way of extending the hours they could chase her. Had to keep moving, keep trying to shake them.
Not that she'd seen them for weeks. Or heard them, rather, since they kept to the shadows. Their rustles and thuds as they failed to be absolutely stealthy in their approach.
She'd thought of staying at an inn, where she could keep a fire going in the hearth through the night. But that didn't keep them from finding her--creaking on the roof by her window--only kept them at bay for a while.
A boom sounded around her, accompanied by a shot of light, exposing her position. A crackling laugh came from the dark.
They'd found her.
Image found here. One of the artists I'm considering using for my book's cover art.