to push herself to her feet. As her weight shifts, a twig snaps beneath her heel, breaking into pieces the once peaceful quiet. And that is all it takes.
The growl thrumming in her chest becomes a terrible roar as something massive comes crashing through the trees toward her. The time for indecision spent, she at lasts heeds the unseen voice in her head. She runs.
Sharp, stinging pains in her soles as she weaves through the undergrowth is what alerts her to her unshod feet; meanwhile low-hanging tree branches scratching at her bare arms and thighs make plain the
Just Another Struggling Writer 
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