Jonas

I didn't care.

I didn't even look behind me.

I just got to the top and ran.

Then I saw him.

He was standing just off the trail, near the old deer blind.

Still a stone.

He had a thick canvas jacket on, the hood pulled up, green pants, no gloves.

His face was raw red, like it had been scraped with sandpaper, except for this one pale strip around his eyes.

The skin there was in touch, clean, like it had been protected, like goggles or something.

His mouth was shut, but his jaw kept moving, twitching, grinding, like he was chewing something over and over again.

We locked eyes, and I didn't wait.

I just bolted into the trees, crashing through brush like a deer with a bullet in it.

I heard him move.

Heavy steps.

Breaking branches.

I didn't think about where I was going.

I just ran in the direction of the only place I knew, the third Blevyn shack.

I dove through the doorway, half-collapsed as it was, and curled up behind the old stove, tucking myself into the broken timbers like I was trying to disappear.

My whole body was buzzing with adrenaline.

My hands were shaking so hard I nearly knocked my thermos over.