A/N: I wrote this early on, but an archive hadn't been posted. So here we go!
It's been forever, and nearly no time at all.
He is just as he always has been. Cruel and keen and powerful and quiet, if only for the moment. Awful intensity of silence before the storm of chaos you know is always there. You remember how he shouted your name, you can hear it pounding in your mind, and it brings you back.
Even after everything, it's still the little things that kill you, like the weary, glassy yellow light, the way it was surprise rather than pain that washed over her face, how the soles of her boots weren't yet very scuffed. Perhaps they were new.
Perhaps you screamed.
Perhaps you will scream now, seeing him again, but you do not know for certain because you never know, you only remember.
Tonight when it is over, and you have lost the trail again, when you can taste blood and failure between your teeth, you'll pray the words again to no God in particular.
Birch Street. Higgins Drive. Cobalt Lane.
There aren't enough streets in the world for you to run as far as you want to.