Or, a familiar story told a different way.
We covered ground as fast as we could, fleeing those who sought our blood. What started as an innocent trek through the forest had turned into a nightmare.
I flailed my arms, trying to beat off my attackers. My companion shouted, as if just the sound of his voice would cause them to fear.
He should have saved his breath. At least he didn’t berate me for not being better prepared for what we knew we would encounter.
At times, the relentless pursuers fell back, as if to regroup, to plan their next assault.
Even then we had no time to admire the towering pines or the graceful birches. Not even the faint scent of the wildflowers could tempt us to slow our pace for even a second.
Instead, we kept on our brutal pace, trying to escape.
Both of us were bruised and bloody from striking our foes even as their weapons pierced our skin. Both of us were breathless and tiring.
Our path led us up to the shore, right up to the edge of a massive lake. The cool breeze dried the sweat on our faces, leaving us feeling grimy and sticky.
There it was. A moment of happiness, a brief respite from our indefatigable foes. Deterred by the breeze, the mosquitoes called off their attack.
Too bad they wouldn’t hold off as we made our dash back to the sanctuary of our car.