Scene - Fleeing - Spooptober Day 9

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Branches scratched at their arms as they ran, blindly, through the forest. They could hear their pursuer close behind them, hear their footfalls on dead leaves and branches. The silvery moonlight that shone through bare branches casting jagged shadows that seemed to try and grab the fleeing figure as they ran, the dead forest dimly illuminated by the glow. 

Somewhere in the distance, an owl gave a baleful hoot, chilling the one on the run. They were totally on edge, they didn't want to die, they didn't want to die. they didn't want to die. Suddenly, they caught their foot on a root that protruded from the earth and went tumbling to the dry ground with a loud cry of panic and pain. They gritted their teeth as they gripped their ankle, while it wasn't obviously broken it felt like they'd twisted it. Not only that but both knees, their shins and their hands had been badly scratched up and were bleeding.

The footfalls got closer.

Grabbing onto the tree for support, they hauled themselves up and kept fleeing, limping heavily on their injured leg. They couldn't let their pursuer catch them. They just couldn't. It'd be fatal.

They kept stumbling as they ran, falling against trees, their strangled gasps as they fought for breath becoming more and more ragged. They knew they couldn't run forever, knew they'd be caught soon enough. 

Then they came across a large oak tree, a hollow faintly visible in the bottom by the roots. They dropped to their knees, gasping in pain as the cuts on them pressed against the rough ground, and crawled inside, curling up into a ball with their legs hugged to their chest, and waited.

The footfalls were right outside their hiding place.

They could smell their attacker's aggression.

They could hear their breathing.

They could feel the waves of malice that emanated from them.

Then they heard a grunt of exertion.

The swoosh of an axe being swung.

And the thunk of blade meeting wood.

The tree they hid in shook, and they couldn't repress the yelp of fear that was torn from their lips. As the swings continued, they began to weep; they were going to die here, alone, in the forest. Each chop that struck the tree resounded in the small space, sounding to the helpless person like a death knell. 

They didn't want to die.

They didn't want to die.

They didn't want to die.

They didn't want to-- 

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