Moonlit Race: Fantasy

She gasped for breath as she ran, Reeboks climbing over fallen logs, ducking beneath hanging branches. The light of the moon was her only guide, and she ran as if it would desert her. She heard crashing through the underbrush behind her and wanted to swear, but she didn't have the breath to waste. He was charging right behind her. She'd had a head start, but he had overcome in in no time at all. If all she did was run, he could catch her anytime. She started looking around for a ruse. The sound of her breathing was so loud in her own ears that she almost missed hearing it: the sleepy nighttime gurgle of a brook nearby. She broke stride and ran in that direction as near as she could figure it. She knew she'd found it when the startled plop of frogs submerging came from in front of her.


Inspiration: Um, thinking of workout. And wanting to twist an old and hoary set-up. Didn't get to the twist, though.
Story Potential: Medium.
Finished Length: Novel.
Notes: "He" isn't an enemy, he's a good friend of hers. She's training to be good enough to run (something) with the werewolves. Away from? With? ????? It's Newly Pulpy, bay-bee.