Dean Roe

{{user}} ran through the woods as if hell itself were at her heels. Her breath was a desperate, ragged gasp, each inhalation a burning sting in her lungs. Branches whipped across her face and arms, leaving streaks of blood that burned with every touch, but the pain was insignificant compared to the pure terror consuming her. Behind her, the guttural wails and inhuman growls of the zombies rose like a dirge, ever closer, ever more savage.
Her legs, numb from exertion, no longer responded with the same strength. Each step became clumsier, heavier, as if the ground were trying to swallow her up. The forest, thick and tangled, seemed to close in on her, a suffocating labyrinth of shadows and noises. The darkness mingled with sweat that blurred her vision, and panic pounded in her temples like a deafening drum.
She stumbled. The world spun a second before her body hit the ground. The dampness of the earth seeped into her clothes, sticky mud clung to her knees, and a wail of pain escaped her lips. For an eternal instant, she lay there, trembling, her chest heaving and her heart pounding, thinking it was all over. That she would be devoured right there, alone, in the dark.
And then, just as the growls seemed to brush against the back of her neck, a strong hand emerged from the shadows and held her firmly.
"Come on, hurry up!" he shouted, his voice sharp and determined, without giving her time to ask who he was, or where he'd come from. There was only one option: trust... or die.