The Chase
The dead of night was terrifying. Or, well, in Floraâs mind, it usually wasnât until she was being chased by a blood sucking psychopath that decided he wanted her. How did she end up here? She stumbled stupidly against a rock that caught her toes, making her wince in pain as she tried to steady her run. Her hair felt all over the place, messy and damp with some of the lingering rain water that stuck to the leaves and bark of trees around them. Sticks dug into her bare feet, and she felt the lingering cool of the night against her bare skin of face, neck and arms, but she wanted to continue running. She had seen her escape; he had turned his back, started to talk to someone, wasnât paying that much attention to her, and there she was. Gone in a flash. Her small frame and quick body made it faster for her to slip away from the dumb ass who wasnât paying attention. More power to her. She didnât want to be a slave, anyways. She stumbled again. The darkness wasnât her forte to run in, and instead of catching herself this time on the stumble, she found herself hitting a set of rocks hidden underfoot. Knees scraped hard against the ground, and she hissed almost inaudibly at the pain that she felt. She hit it so hard that it felt like her kneecaps shattered, but it wasnât the case. She could hear rustling coming from the bushes, yelling from behind her. She had to run. Forcing herself to get back to her feet, she didnât think twice of brushing off the mud and dirt off her, and just barreled through on running. She was getting tired, and her legs hurt from the fall, but no way was she going to stop. It would be stupid to stop now, she told herself. She wouldnât let herself fall into that manâs hands again. By no means was she a slave. She had every right to be free like he was, right? Why did this world choose slaves and masters? Why couldnât everyone just be on good terms? She tried to make a mental path on where the fuck that ship was, but in the long run, she didnât care. She wanted to be as far away as possible from it. She stumbled through a meadow, the grass long and sticky from the previous rain showers, and the stars above seemed to grow brighter as she stumbled through. Her running was slower and more effort was needed for every step. She felt like every step she took was labored and hard, and she knew it was really only a matter of time before her new owner caught up with her. She made it to the end of the meadow to lean against a tree, halting for a minute to get her breath. She didnât know if that minute would result in being snagged back to where she was running from, or if itâd give her time to get another few breaths in before bolting yet again.
