Pulling at Strings

'The lingering snowfall upon the outer edges of Graveskye offered no solace as Rose sprinted across the sprawling plains. Dead trees marked the fields now and again, though no signs of life were visible among them. All was still. All silence save for the sharpness of her own breath heaving above the muffled heartbeat in her chest.
Tug...tug...
It was here that the woman became painfully aware of a new sight. A sharp pull on her wrist, followed by another...and another. She paused, glancing at crimson strands weaving about her arms and legs. Rose paled, remembering this very occurrence years past.
"Fayt..." She breathed.
The ever tightening strings narrowed to a single source, masked by a rolling fog near the line of dead forest. Another tug nearly made Rose lose her balance; the next sending her stumbling closer to the shrouded figure. The ground seemed to open up at her feet, and she pulled away, teetering upon the brink of a large abyss.
She glanced up, a plea for mercy.
...tug...
The last she saw before plunging headlong into the chasm was this: A glimpse of faded red, and a worn bandage above the widening grin.'

Welcome to Graveskye.