Vivian Cole is close to starting her junior year of college. She's out for one last run in her home state of Louisiana when everything changes for her.
Saul Moses is the Alpha of a dying pack in Alaska. When on business in the South, he encounters...
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Running—it's always been a retreat for me.
An oasis, if you will.
An escape.
My parents are good parents, I won't deny that. It's just that their expectations for me always outweigh what I want.
I love them more than anything but they are exceedingly suffocating—a fact that's become more obvious as time dwindles to only two months until I move back to college.
I've been at Duke University for the past two years, partly for its amazing programs and partly because it's over fourteen hours away from my home—Worth, Louisiana. Seated right outside Kisatchie National Forest the population on a good day is around three-hundred people.
Don't get me wrong—I love my town, my home, my friends—but I'm ready. Ready to dive back in to more than just one gas-station, one church, one grocery store, and no red lights.
I take a sharp left down a path I've never gone on before. I often go running in the National Forest due to its proximity and my increasing need to escape my parents and Worth altogether. It's relaxing being out here alone; therapeutic to experience the forest in its natural state with no inhibitions.
It should've been fine to go running in the woods. I've done it at least a million times. It should've been fine—
but it wasn't today.
The trail turns into open woods but I don't mind. I often go off-path anyways and always find my way back. I come to a halt as I take a moment to catch my breath and stretch out my legs. The time on my watch reads 7:50 pm and I know the sun will be going down soon. A text from Mom appears on the screen:
Everything okay?
I scoff at her overprotectiveness and slide up, pressing the 'speech to text' option, and saying, "Good. Finishing up in a few minutes."
I send the message and begin on my way once more, jogging in-between trees and over small plants and fallen leaves.
As far as wildlife is concerned I'm also unworried. I've never seen any animals, so I assume they come out at night.
And I'm never in the forest after sunset.
I push my legs harder, turning my jog into a sprint and going deeper and deeper into the woods. I jog to a stop and turn off the stopwatch that had been running on my smart watch—1 hr & 30 mins.
Longer than usual but much needed. I shake out my hands and begin to do stretches as I venture back toward the path. From where I'm currently at, I can see the start of it about one-hundred yards away. I take my time stretching and walking, knowing a barrage of questions will be thrown at me once I get home.
Where have you been? How was your run? Have you started packing yet? What about your advisor? Have you talked to her? And your roommate? Is she set to let you bring the essential furniture or is she a problem? And your transcript, does that need to be sent again? What about your job? You know money doesn't appear out of thin air, Vivian.
