She was running.

Like a prey running from its predator.

Shades of green passed her in a flurry as her feet sped past the muddy ground in an attempt to escape. She had no where to hide, not as if she could anyway. She would just get killed and be yet another one whose efforts were futile. She could only run, climb, jump, swim and it didn’t seem to be enough from what she was running from. Or rather, who she was running from. 

She was only in the first round, the supposedly simplest but most difficult to accomplish. The gears in her brains turned, perhaps faster than the blood rushing in her veins. She could either fight -in which she would definitely lose and lose her life-, hide -where she would probably be found and killed ruthlessly- or run -which was what she was doing. She didn’t know how long it had been since the start of the first round, and she clearly didn’t know how long it would continue for but she was sure as hell tired. Her lungs were burning in her chest, aching ferociously and her legs were unbelievably sore from the all possible hours of running. She had no choice but to continue running and surviving in the never-ending forest, able to only run deeper inside instead of out. 

It was soon nightfall and she had stopped running just minutes prior. Her stomach was craving for food while her tongue was sandpaper dry. She slumped against a large tree and felt the urge to heave. And so she did. She coughed loudly, only caring about her own needs rather than the almost silent footsteps approaching. She to her side as she retched in all discomfort. Clear acid and strings of saliva leaked onto the bed of leaves beside her and then she heard it. The soft crack of a twig. She cursed herself for not sensing another presence unt