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[h1][color=D4F0FF] Bodil Bera [/color][/h1]
[hider=Hours of Running] [youtube]https://youtu.be/GQA7RQEo-ss[/youtube][/hider]
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Despite trying to weave around the beast man, he just appeared like a ghost in front of her again. Flight wasn't working. Fight would probably be the end of her. Giving in was not allowed, so said her pride... More flight then. It was the least horrible of the three options. 

He thought to amuse himself with her? She would be as boring as possible then! Bodil stilled her usually rapid fire tongue. The hideous beast would not find [i]her[/i] to be his entertainment! She would ignore him! Those things that paraded about like mortal Man, they would not take prize with her.

The dark haired woman's feet hit the ground hard to slide in her sudden chance of course. Wild nature, ancient and almost alien, swallowed her fleeing charge. Any time the beast man crossed her path she would dart in another direction, usually favoring the right, being right handed. Trees groaned heavily, looming like the spiring arches had before, always overhead and watching with mild intrigue. Bodil sometimes would push her way through thorny bushes, briar brambles and thistle-like fern patches to escape the reoccurring nightmare that was the fox beast.

The dark haired young woman ran, stubbornly and only taking short breaks before being startled into another fleeing sprint, like a doe chased to exaughstion by a pack of wolves. No matter how much her limbs ached, no matter how hard her breath became, no matter how many times she tore through stinging sore-granting vegetation, Bodil kept going. After all, she had good practice in running away. What was one beast man compared to the hellishly intricate network of relatives her family and their so-called 'Mennonite' cult had boasted? 

Three days. She could run for three days. She didn't have to sleep between the first and second, though she would slow some, take more breaks, but at least she would be moving. The night of the second day, she would have to sleep and at least drink plenty of water to stay off hunger, but she would be able to run the third day too. Yes, a well known plan. Bodil thought over her plan with determined resolve, never knowing that all her fleeing would only carry her faster to the prison she had tried running from in the first place.

It wasn't but hours she had been running till the forest grew thick. In the dance of avoidance between prey and predator, Bodil ran again to the right this time after encountering the beast. With her stumbling swerve, she landed hard on her knee, but the lower vantage point helped in her seeing a road. Freedom! This was her only thought. How could she know she was running in a twisting path straight to the marching hoard? Being herded without her knowledge. In her focus on avoiding the fox, she hadn't even noticed the changing colors of the landscape, giving way to Fall.

Pixies and brownies all giggles and laughed at the great chase, knowing the clever tricks being played on the hunted. Animals watched from a weary distance, glad not to be in such a position. It seemed even the forest hissed with amusement at the fruitless running of the mortal woman. But Bodil was too stubborn, too proud, too sightless to take notice. Any odd noise was the fox laughing as he got closer, and so she should flee. Any odd movement was the fox slipping up behind her, and so she should hasten her gait. Any odd feeling was the fox with his tricks to be sense by her instincts, and so she must press on. 

Pain from running, restlessness in rest with no relaxation or rejuvenation to be found, Bodil never relinquished in her fleeing. She would rather drop down dead from exhaustion first! Or so she told herself over and over again. Her lungs burned, her heart pounded, her breathing could not be distinguished from small noises of pain or fright. Prey animal, running. Prey animal, fleeing. Prey animal, doomed.[/center]