as she passes.
The hot panting breath of the monster on her heels steadily fades. A scream of frustration echoes through the trees.
But she is leaving it behind. Slowly, the nigh on suffocating foliage begins to thin, and, a few strides later, she bursts through the thicket into bright sunshine and open space. In the distance lies a walled city on a hill, and her salvation.
A deranged howl behind her alerts the woman to several more of the beasts’ kin joining the hunt alongside it. She does not slow — she cannot. Her legs seem to be moving of
Just Another Struggling Writer 
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