Chapter 9: Born to Run

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Both the rebellion and the activity felt good. The exertion of Ali's feet hitting the rocky soil raised her heart rate and invigorated not only her body but also her mind. Her head cleared of the frustration and anger the session with Dr. Sacher had brought, and she broke into a smile as she dashed under the mighty evergreens lining the trail.

Among the trees the path became both darker and softer from the higher amounts of composted vegetation, which made it soft enough to clearly show hoof prints scattered along the way. Thankful for a sign she was on the right trail, Ali followed the tracks into a wide meadow with wildflowers in rich purples and oranges and where the fresh scent of pine mingled with the sweet aroma of native clovers and copper mallows.

Taking a deep breath, she relished the rich fragrance. The last few weeks of relative inactivity, however, made the muscles in her sides twitch from the strain. She pushed on despite the increasing ache forming in her calves, with only the cool rustling of the wind in the treetops and the rhythmic stomping of her sneakers breaking the silence.

Concentrating on where to place her feet among the roots, ruts, and rocks while trying to keep a steady pace, Ali jumped when a low rumble erupted from the sky. Looking up, she saw the clouds were denser and darker than they'd been just minutes earlier. When a gust whipped a strand of hair out of her tight ponytail and across her face, she tucked the lock behind her ear and sped up. She hadn't even run another two hundred feet before the sound of approaching hooves got her attention.

Riding through the valley below, the group—probably at Liz's urging—was heading back toward the lodge. In a spur-of-the-moment decision, Ali ducked into the shadow of a knotty oak before watching the slow procession pass below her. She took the welcome opportunity to catch her breath, but frowned when broker Dave came into view.

Although he was focused on chatting up a ball-cap-wearing soccer-mom-type woman, spotting the man whom she had successfully avoided since Saturday night at the bar made Ali glad she'd ducked out of sight. The decision was reinforced when the group's leader motioned for the riders to pick up the pace. The wrangler—probably the Jules that Liz had mentioned earlier—would no doubt have also asked her to return to Pebble Creek out of caution, and Ali wasn't ready. The release and sense of freedom running had given her in just a short amount of time were much more useful than any forced therapy session.

A little summer shower wasn't about to scare her into hiding now.

Ali waited for the horses to pass before continuing in the opposite direction. She followed the ridge above the valley, occasionally climbing over smooth boulders and rounding scraggly bushes as she made her way farther and farther up the mountain. Dust covered her bare legs and sweat dripped down her face in sticky streaks by the time she realized the trail below was nowhere in sight. Stopping to survey her surroundings, she wiped her brow with the back of her hand just before a cold water droplet landed on her nose. Another hit her shoulder, followed by a steady stream as the sprinkles quickly developed into a heavy rainfall.

Ali sighed. At some point, she must have turned off the marked route without even noticing and now everything around her looked the same. Pines and meadows, grasses and rocks intermittently covered the whole area in every direction, leaving no well-worn paths or other telltale signs to follow.

A bright streak of lightning struck against the darkened sky, causing Ali to flinch ahead of the inevitable thunder. Seconds later, the sound reverberated through the air and made the ground shake.

Disoriented and keenly aware of Liz's warning, Ali looked around but was only positive of one thing. Pebble Creek had to be somewhere down below. Finding the exact way she came would be nearly impossible and probably wasn't worth the effort, so she started down the grassy embankment, cautiously avoiding rocky outcrops slippery from the rain. A wrong step would add a broken ankle to her already useless wrist, but hesitating was out of the question.

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