* * * *
I stumble to a stop somewhere miles from the facility—I don’t know how long I’ve been running but it’s almost dawn now, the air around me starting to lighten with a rosy hue that I used to see from the window of my cell. A pinkish, bluish tinge that will burn off as the sun rises, but right now it’s cottony and clings to the trees with a low fog that’s hard to navigate. At least in the darkness I could sense the trees around me, I could dodge out of their way, I could open my mind and feel the forest and know where the guards were, how much distance I’d managed to put between them and me. But in this fog, time is blurred, trees jump out from odd angles, startling me into another direction, until I’m sure I’m running in circles around the same patch of wood and the sun will rise to find me frantic. The guards will catch up then—I feel them breathing down on me like hell hounds, and the thought of returning terrifies me.
No one has ever escaped before.