The Pursued.
You never think it’ll happen to you… until it does. Pine needles pierce my swollen feet as I race through the forest maze. I see my breath roll out in front of me, condensing in the bitter winter frost. My heart is deafening in my ears, and for a moment I am disorientated, the sound of my pursuers concealed by the rapid thumping. There’s three of them. No, four. I can hear their shouts now, and they bark just the same as the hounds that lead them. Shit, they’re close. The thick forestry is enough to dampen the sound of my frozen footsteps, but nothing will cover my scent. They thrive too much on the acrid smell of fear for it to go unnoticed… My pace quickens. Photo by Deglee Degi on Unsplash I glance back, licking my cracked lips with a dry tongue. My foot buckles beneath me as it catches on a small pile of rock and dirt, and I collapse deadweight into a nearby tree. Falling forwards, I grasp desperately at the thicker branches, using its solid bark to steady...