I sprinted up the narrow dirt path, my feet crunching lightly on the stones, my breath heavy in the humidity of the night. The forest was black and I could scarcely distinguish my clothing from the shadows surrounding me. Blindness to own my feet meeting the ground offered the thrill of flying like a ghost through the night, aware at any moment that I could break an ankle or plunge headlong into the darkness. Behind me, in the distance, I could hear motorized vehicles and barking dogs. My lungs ached and, realizing I couldn't keep up my pace, I turned suddenly off the path and made my way down a steep embankment in a controlled slide, grasping desperately at trees and holding fast to my backpack while avoiding what braches and underbrush I could. When the ground leveled off, I just kept running through the woods until the sirens left my ears and were replaced by the sound of the night creatures and, eventually, by the torturous rhythm of my own breathing. I slowed to a walk and kept on moving for several miles before coming to rest between the roots of a massively thick tree. Clenching my eyes, breath came in ragged gasps from my throat and sent plumes of mist out of my mouth into the murky night air.
When the rushing of my breath finally receded, the only sound I heard was the gentle lapping of a lake sprawled before the tree-line and disappearing into the darkness, interrupted only by a trail of moonlight cutting through the waves. I lost consciousness briefly but quickly jerked myself upright, feeling like a discarded puppet and trying to force my limbs into action before the rangers and dogs found me. Struggling to my feet only revealed to me how futile it would be to run, and a desperate hopelessness started to close around my heart when suddenly I heard the spring-loaded slam of a cabin door. Jerking my head to the side, I was surprised by a small earthen cabin that appeared too close for me not to have noticed immediately. There was a little light inside and I ducked back down to the roots of the tree so as not to be noticed by the woman who'd just stepped out to light a cigarette. I watched her from the darkness, realizing that my escape was bound to this little cabin and the woman before me. Illuminated by the gas lamp shining through the window was a tall woman with wavy, shoulder-length, light brown hair streaked with gray in spots. Her nose and lips were thin and she had high cheekbones, which lent her an almost aristocratic air that contrasted with her backwoods surroundings. Squinting at her in the darkness, I guessed she was almost fifty based on what I could see of her eyes and the relaxed posture of her body beneath the worn out t-shirt that covered her from cleavage to the tops of her thighs. There was a casual attractiveness about her emphasized by her unsupported breasts and soft thighs.
I was astounded in the next moment as she crushed the butt of her cigarette out against the surface of the cabin and turned, gathering her shirt above waist and squatting off the edge of the porch to piss into the dirt. In the silence of the night, I could see her squatting ass and hear the trickle of her pee on the plants below. She tensed and grunted softly before standing, pulling off her shirt completely and walking down to the lake where, moments later, I heard a light splash.
This was my chance and I seized it, dragging myself from my hiding place onto the porch and into the cabin. The gas lamp flickered on a table near the window and I sprawled face-down in the middle of the room, bathed in the light and doing my best not to scare her any more than I had to upon her return.
I was jarred into alertness by the cabin door and a breathless cry of surprise. My eyes were open but I remained motionless as I heard her move around me. The sensation of something against my clothes, just above my spine, was apparent as I heard her rifling wordlessly through my bag and felt her cautiously search my pockets.
"Wake up. Who are you? Did you have something to do with what happened at the protest?" she asked?
