The demon didn't even hesitate, it turned tail, literally and began sprinting away, clawing its way through the forest, panic and fear gripping its heart. It was going to die, it knew it, deep down, that today was the day it'll die. He had to run, no matter the cost, no matter the what.
Roots were crushed against the pads of his feet and tore loose when he heaved forward. Wet leaves slicked his soles and sent him sliding into ferns that slapped his shins, cold and stinging. He could taste his own breath, sour and hot, filling his hanging mouth with steam that curled back over his teeth. The forest closed behind him with every lunge, trunks crowding, branches knitting back like ribs over a wound. His thoughts were not thoughts, only fragments jostling against the cage of his skull. Run. Faster. Away. He did not look anywhere but ahead, because behind him lived the outline of a death he could not name without feeling it happen.
