Link to Prompt: https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/g3xu3n/wp_you_feel_youve_been_running_forever_like_all/?utm_medium=android_app&utm_source=share

A/N; Not quite the prompt, but I got inspired, and my brain ran away with it haha. Additionally, thought I'd change the naming style on here so they're a bit easier to identify.

As I walk the forst is calm and comforting. The chirping of birds calling, the soft rustle of the grass under my bare feet. I've always felt more at home in the wild. I walk for a long time, enjoying the simple pleasure of the cool breeze in my hair. But then something stops me.

Was that a twig snapping behind me? I turn to look, and I see It. The massive black wolf, it's eyes the glowing red of embers in a dying fire. In the bushes behind it is its pack. Tens, or maybe even hundreds of lithe canine shapes twisting through the wilderness. Some black, some grey, all with the same fiery gaze. Enraptured, I watch them for a long time, until the leader moves a single paw forward, and another twig snaps. My instincts do likewise, and I bolt.

I run, and I run. 'Where am I going?' I wonder. 'Away.' I answer myself. 'I must get away.' So I leap over logs, duck under branches, and the marathon for my life begins.

Time seems to mix as I race, sometimes blurring for minutes at a time before snapping back into focus as I dodge this tree, or avoid that bramble. Behind me, I can hear them, baying and howling in excitement, in expectation, keeping pace, but not catching up yet. I know they can. Of course they can. They've always been able to.

I hear a loud crash behind me, and look back to see the lead hound has hit a massive tree, and it's roots are ripping out of ground as it tumbles over. The sound of its landing deafens me, and I stumble, and almost fall. But I regain my feet and run faster. I can't stop. If I stop they'll have me.

I know, somewhere deep in my mind, the logical center, presumably, that this can't be real. These wolves, these canines from the very depths of hell, they're false. No wolf could knock over a redwood and still live. But there It it is, two or three steps behind me, howling and barking its ecstatic excitement, its thrill of the hunt.

Then, the ground vanishes from underneath me. I'm falling. I look up to see the wolves have stopped dead on the cliff edge above me, the one I ran off because I wasn't watching.

I wish I'd never come out this far.

I wish I'd run faster.

I wish I'd been watching.

I wish I'd remembered to take my meds.

I wish