May 11, 2020, 10:30 AM
Part III. Dated 5/12.
Running, running, running.
Old paths. Familiar paths.
Things were coming together. Bleeding together.
Old ways. Familiar ways.
A gasp hitched in her throat as another flare of agony stole through her gut, setting her skin on fire.
"No," she choked wetly into the wind. She wasn't ready -- she was too far. Her feet sunk into churning sand, and she pressed on past the thinning, stunted coastal pines. She would make it -- she had no choice.
In her wake, little drops of scarlet were greedily lapped up by the sand.