I ran through the woods as fast and as far as my tired legs would take me. I didn't know if I was still being chased, but I knew that I had to keep running. Unfortunately, the adrenaline that had kept me going until now was starting to wear off.
I hadn't realized just how cold it was in Washington in mid-December. I had run out of my hiding place without grabbing my jacket, and I realized now just how cold was. My fingers ached, and I shoved them under my arms to keep them warm.
I had to keep running until I reached the border of La push. I knew that I would be safe from my pursuers once I was inside the reservation. I was familiar with the stories, and I knew that they were true. I knew they were true, because the ones after me were cold and as hard as stone, extremely beautiful, and their irises were bright crimson. I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that they were the Cold-Ones that I had read about in my book of Quiliute legends that my best friend had given me. Her name was Amber and she was a native Quiliute. She had given me the book to entertain me, but I used it as a guidebook after my family was attacked.
I knew well the stories of the shape-shifters who took the form of wolves and defended La Push from the Cold Ones, and I knew that once I was in La Push, I would be safe.
I heard them after me, but I kept running. I knew that I was in the reservation when they stopped following me, fearful of the shape-shifters. The fight or flight response kept me going for longer than I had to, and once I cleared the tree line, my legs gave out and I passed out exhausted in a roadside ditch.
