Ciri - Predicament [better]

If she stayed in the desert, she would die alone. The cold would take her, or the unicorn—little horse—would not return in time. But if she left, if she went to the people she loved, she carried the apocalypse with her.

"A squirrel runs," the voice hissed. "Up and down, branch to branch. Always moving, never arriving. That is what you are, Zireael. A swallow that cannot land." ciri - predicament

The wind over the Korath desert did not howl; it hissed, a serpent sliding over dunes of bone-white sand. If she stayed in the desert, she would die alone

She stood up, her legs trembling. She wanted to scream, to let the Elder Blood boil over and tear the world apart in a tantrum of magic. She could crack the sky, bring down lightning, level mountains. That was the temptation—the easy path of destruction. "A squirrel runs," the voice hissed