Run
The earth squelched under her feet, damp and alive, clinging to her skin with every step. A chorus of cicadas rolled over her, pulsing through her chest in waves that matched the rhythm of her heartbeat. Twigs crack beneath her heel. The sound shot through the air as they split in two, swallowed by the symphony of the forest.
A cool breeze coiled around her legs, slid up her arms, and spilled over the back of her neck. It carried the bite of bruised ferns that mingled with the sweetness of wildflowers. They poured their fragrances into the dark with no care whose nose they assaulted.
Bark, rough and jagged, pulled at her clothes and dug into her skin. Rain pooled in its groove and left trails of time against her palms. Sticky sap clung to the tree like a memory. Its resinous smell cutting through the floral haze. The tree creaked low, straining against the wind, branches rattling like old bones.
Water dripped nearby. The sound rippled outward, each drop splashed into the symphony of the night until it became one with the soft rustle of leaves and the faint scuttle of small critters moving through the underbrush. Moss cushioned her fingers as she crouched, yielding before the unrelenting hardness of the stone beneath. The ground breathed a low hum that carried the tiny skitter of ants navigating the stones and the ripple of worms pressing through the dirt.
Under it all lingered the faint breath of rot—the long dead plants and animals the forest refused to let go of. It pressed into her, a stench that demanded her attention. The splatter of blood on the ground reminded her that Death was patient, waiting on the quiet edges of the world. Her breath caught. Fear sank it’s icy claws into her heart.
She couldn’t out run him forever.