She ran, not knowing where her next step would lead her. Not knowing if this caged breath would be her last.

Her breath was getting labored, her feet began to lag. The fog wrapped its arms around her. She brushed them aside and kept running.

She refused to let fear conquer her. Her demise was waiting around the corner, perhaps behind that tree, but she refused to acknowledge it. She knew to do so would prove her downfall.

In the end it was an exposed root that proved her downfall, both literally and figuratively. The gnarled root snagged her foot and brought her down, her face sinking into the wet bracken.

“Oof!” She exhaled as a shower of leaves fell over her. A spasm of pain ran up her leg, pinning her to the grass.

Oh God, she thought. Not here, not now. She was so close…

Then she heard a footfall and knew she had lost. He stood there with a triumphant grin, black grease paint camouflaging his features, but she recognized him all the same. He ran forward and grasped her wrist -

“Tag! You’re it!”