Famous Last Stand

Hot panting breath against her heels and flanks. The sharp tear of teeth in her skin. Her own heartbeat pounding in her chest as she struggled to outrun them. Somewhere, not too far behind, the sound of hunter's horns echoing stridently through the air.

Pain lanced up Amarantha's leg as one of the hounds sank a fang into her left hind leg. A desperate, flailing, kick was followed by a sharp yelp and jaws releasing her hock. Staggering but upright, she gathered her legs under her and leapt.

The series of surprised barks, howls and yelps behind her told Amarantha that the hounds had tumbled down into to the old, dried creekbed. The thick undergrowth meant that, unless you knew it was there, you wouldn't see the steep embankments until you were right on top of it. Not that it would stop them long. Already, Amarantha could hear their claws scrabbling up the loose, crumbling bank.

She cleared the distance and landed with a stagger, her injured leg nearly giving way. Pushing on, she dodged around a tree trunk, it's rough bark scraping her hide. Plunging through the choking undergrowth, she pushed past thick the thick, thorny, scrub. Though she knew this forest inside out, Amarantha found herself starting to get disoriented. The effects of exhaustion, no doubt.

She scrambled over a tumble of fallen logs and nearly plowed into a granite boulder. Dodging around it, she nearly ran into a patch of Stingweed.

This time of year? And so far from standing water?

She barely had time to register the thought, as a steep ditch forced her to veer right. Crashing and stumbling, a massive ancient tree brought her to a bone-jarring halt. Eyes darting frantically, she saw that it was a dead end. The only way back was the way she had come.

Well. She had known she couldn't outrun them forever. But if she was going down, she was going to take as many of them down with her as she could. Amarantha turned to  face her pursuers, legs trembling with fatigue, her flanks lathered with sweat, chest heaving with deep, ragged breaths. The glowing markings that covered her skin flickered and dimmed. Horn lowered, Amarantha waited for death.

And waited. The sound of the hunt came steadily closer and then, with startling abruptness, was silenced. In the unsettling hush that followed, the only sounds were that of her pounding heart and gasping breath. No birds sang. No leaves rustled. An oppressive, unnatural silence filled the space with it's presence.

Where am I?

Nothing looked familiar, and she knew every corner of the forest. Somehow, she had stumbled into the unknown. Overwhelmed, her legs finally gave way under her. As she crashed into into the leaf litter with a loud thud, she was suddenly acutely aware that she was in an unfamiliar place, smelling of blood and sweat, and too exhausted to run. To exhausted even to heal herself.

Well, I never expected to live out this day. Let it be what it will.

With determined resignation, Amarantha raised her head to look her fate in the face.

Amarantha

You were named for the Amaranth
Whose bloom means life unending
And whose name means Love Lies Bleeding

Magic:
Healing: Ability to heal with her touch, preferably with her horn. Difficult or big jobs take exponentially more energy the more complicated they are
Offensive: Ability to twist her healing to cause harm - unknitting bones and muscles, causing infections instead of healing them, turning medicine into poison, etc.
Healing: Ability to calm and soothe with her song

Mutations
Bioluminescent blue-green markings that can flicker or change brightness depending on her mood and energy.