The blackness that had clouded my mind and vision started to clear. I was panting. I was out of breath. The forest was moving. No. Not moving. I was moving. I was running. My vision started to clear and I found myself running through the woods. My heart was pounding, my breathing ragged, but I couldn’t stop. I knew that much. It was so shocking that I tripped over a fallen branch, skinning my hands and knees. I knew that I was terrified. I knew that I was not wearing any shoes. I knew that I was in clothes that were much better suited for lounging on my couch than hiking through the middle of the forest. And I knew that my name was…

I didn’t know what my name was. How could I not know my name?

I didn’t know where I was, or how I got here. I didn’t even know what I was running from.

I scrambled to my feet and kept running. I was limping slightly. My ankles were sore and it wasn’t from the fall.

I looked all around me, seeing nothing, I hid myself under the roots of a fallen tree to get my bearings. I grabbed leafy branches to lean against the tree roots, cocooning myself in a makeshift cave. There was just enough moonlight to see the branches and roots around me but nothing else.

I gently probed the sore spots on my ankles with my fingers. There were shallow cuts and what felt like a burn that went all the way around both ankles. My wrists were sore, with similar burns and cuts. My elbows were also badly bruised and my left was swelling and throbbing painfully; it was most likely broken.

Now that the adrenaline was leaving my body, I started to shake uncontrollably. My throat was sore and I was in desperate need of water and food. I had no idea how long it had been since I had had anything to eat or drink.

I slowed my breathing and closed my eyes, desperately trying to gain some insight into why I was here and what I was running from.

Keeping my ears open for sounds of my possible pursuers, I mentally made a list of the things I did know.

The air was warm, so it was most likely summertime.

Based on the burns on my ankles and wrists, I was tied up at one point, which meant that I was most likely taken from my home. My clothes seemed to match that conclusion; unless my shoes were taken and my clothes were changed by whoever I was running from, but I didn’t want to go down that dark path just yet.

My hair had been cut recently, and badly. I ran my fingers through it, catching on the tangles and dead leaves that were trapped in it. It was slightly damp and I could smell a faint flowery scent as I worked the tangles out. I shuddered at the thought that I probably wasn’t the one who washed it.

Most importantly, I knew that I had escaped. And I needed to keep it that way. I couldn’t stay here much longer. My kidnappers – that seemed to be the only logical conclusion I could draw for now – were most likely not far behind. I needed to keep moving. My feet...