Something, a tiny voice in the back of your head, whispers that there is no victory to be found in facing her. Instinct tells you that to continue to flee is your only hope.

To hope she grows bored, instead of tired. To hope more tempting prey crosses her path, their life sacrificed to save yours

The woods only grow deeper and hungrier the further you run.

And any time you hesitate or pause, you hear the steady snap or crunch of Her step, inevitably drawing ever closer.

Is running worth it? If She will catch you, in the end, should you not save some strength to face Her?

Cuts and scrapes sting and burn with each new passing limb.

Breath comes more and more dearly as your legs burn with effort, a stitch in your side growing steadily deeper, like a knife shoved into your gut.

Has it been minutes? Hours? Forever?

The moon hangs overhead, unmoving.

Without conscious thought, you flee.

It doesn’t matter what direction, it only matters that you get away from Her.

Time becomes uncertain, imprecise.

The limbs of those hateful trees increasingly catch skin as your clothes are rent to tatters in their clutching grasp.

Someone needs to rewire your head so that you get off on going to the gym to become the best and hottest version of your slutty self. Slut training is only complete when you have remade your body as well.

The absolute dream.

She just smiles at you.

And takes another step closer.

Her long, unbound hair is a deep blue, so dark it verges on purple or black. It hangs loose, past Her shoulders, fluttering faintly in a breeze.

With a start, you realize you are staring at Her. That She asked you a question.

“Please. I don’t understand.” You beg, between panting breaths.

She is closer than she was before, ahead of you again despite your blind flight away from Her.

Now you can see more detail, even in the shadow and the full moon’s scant light.

You can see the way Her fingers end in claws, so sharp that you feel they will cut you just by looking at them.

“Have You Exhausted Yourself Already?” A melodious voice drifts from the near-silent forest around you, reminding you of creaking trees, bare and barren in the grip of deepest winter, its sound both beautiful and deeply unsettling.

Your head snaps up, and She steps from behind an ancient tree.

Deeper into the impossible woods you flee. Frantic pace slowing bit by bit as panicked glance behind reveals no sign of pursuit.

Your racing heart begins to slow its rapid tattoo against your ribs when you stumble to a halt, bending over to catch your breath, hands on your knees.

Rising panic fuels your steps. The sense of wrongness deepens as tree limbs like claws begin to catch your clothes, tearing and snapping as you rush past.

Who is She? What is She? The image of her remains fixed in your mind, as indelible as the bite mark her glittering fangs would make.

She takes a step, with the faint crack of a stick underfoot to taunt you.

She’s in no hurry.

One that blossoms into true panic as her lips slowly curl into a smile, pulling back to an entire mouth filled with pointed, gleaming razor sharp fangs.

A Hunter’s Grin.

Now you understood in a flash.

It was her you’d been running from.

You turn, and plunge into the tangle of undergrowth.

Fair skin shining like marble in the Hunter’s Moon.

Then she Looked at you.

Eyes like the crushing weight and utter cold at the heart of a glacier. The weight of Her regard making you stagger. The unreadable expression on her delicate features forming a knot of unease in your gut.

For a moment, thought of her obscures your fear, the foreboding.

You wondered if she was lost.

Certainly she looked out of place, clad in a silken dress that looked as though she’d stepped out of a movie. Her feet bare, her eyes closed with her head turned toward the heavens above.