They’re coming. They’re coming.

You breathe heavily as you try to run, hiking your dress up so it doesn’t hinder you. You can feel the heat of fire on your back, your ears ringing with panic.

“There she is!” You can hear someone yell. Sounds of heavy footsteps and horse hooves pounding towards you. “Get her! Don’t let her get away!”

No no no nonononono—

You push yourself to go even faster, your throat burning along with your sore legs. These shoes were not meant to be run in. Nor this dress.

You are not prepared for this.

You feel hot tears sting your eyes, but you push the sobs down. You’ll have time to cry later, when you’re not running for your life. You can’t let the hysterics or emotions get to you yet. Right now you just need to find somewhere to go.

You can feel the ground tremble under your feet. They are close, too close.

You choke on your panic, scanning the place desperately for somewhere you can hide, or escape to, or anything.

Nothing.

Nothing nothing nothing—

You’re at a dead end. 

In front of you is a rocky hill that leads up to a tall mountain. You don’t have the means to climb it. It will take days, weeks, months to get past. You clutch at your head, trying to think.

You can’t. Your heart is too loud and they are so close you can almost feel their breaths against yo