“Shit, shit, shit, shit!” I mumble out loud as I force myself to keep running, not even stopping as sharp branches slap my face as I run through them. Luckily for me, the freezing rain numbed the hell out of my face and hands. The sound of fallen branches and twigs snapping in half echoed behind me, which meant that my pursuer was still behind me. The mud is slippery and makes it hard to keep good friction between the soles of my feet and the forest floor. I’m surprised I haven’t fallen and gotten devoured by whatever feral animal is chasing me yet. My lungs burn and muscles ache, but the adrenaline pumping in my system allows me to keep pushing my bodily limits. It’s good to know that when in a fight or flight situation I’ll choose flight, keep it in handy for next time. So, you’re probably wondering how I’ve gotten myself into quite the pickle, aren’t you? Don’t worry, I’m also currently wondering the very same thing. My guess? A certain, special, talent of getting stuck in bad sit
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