She knew the end was near. She kept running anyway; along the little creek that trickled through the forest. Soon she would reach the waterfall and her time would run out.
Weaving through the trees she saw the creek picking up into a stream. The water ran faster here. The rocks were larger and the current stronger. Her bare feet squelched through the mud along the bank, leaving deep, unmissable footprints.
‘He can already smell me from miles away, I don’t need to leave such an obvious trail!’ she chastised herself. If only she could run lightly, leaving less of a mark.
The waterfall was close now, she could hear it. What would she do when she reached it? It was almost 20 metres high; if she jumped she would surely meet her doom.
But she didn’t let her feet slow. Even if she died, at least Mary was safe; he was off her trail.
Her hair caught in a branch and tore out of her scalp. Tears streaked down her face, blurring her vision. Her feet felt the water run wide. She was at the end.