Run, sprint, race, dart, rush, dash, hurry, scurry, scamper, bolt, fly, gallop, career, charge, shoot, hustle, speed, zoom, tear, pelt, whip, barrel. Run. Running down through the tundra sharpened walls covered in dusty ice with the crystals gleaming in the moonlight. Frost scented trees glided past as my footsteps fell almost in slow motion onto the white snow. My heartbeat felt like fire scorching through me and my breath billowed from my mouth and nose into the hateful night air, turning my breathing to smoke in seconds.

Break, breaking, broke. That was the world. Break the crust in two and scatter the remains into a desert of nothingness to rot into terror filled carcasses, never to see the world again. Break the rules in two and snap them in half then throw them into the closest trash bin to rot like the crust of the world. To let twisted fingers come and take the trash away to be licked by flames, never to be seen again. Steal the rules, twist the rules, break the rules.

Something I never should have done. Footsteps pounded behind me and I pounded down through the snow faster and quicker, faster and quicker, until I felt like I would break like the crust and the rules. Break in two and then thrown in the trash to be picked up by the twisted fingers and to be taken away then burned to ashes. I could feel snow falling onto my shoulders as I took more steps across the bleak and barren tundra with mountains etching in the landscape and the sky tinged pink with the coming dawn and my arms tinged red with pounding blood. Snowflakes crossed my vision and twirled in torrent and I soon realized that they resembled the ashes. The ashes of me after being snapped in two, thrown in the trash, and burned to cinders and ashes, ashes that fall down in front of me as snowflakes.

A blast of cold arctic wind blew into my face with a torrent of pain and ice, harming my cheeks and making my eyes water with warm tears that for some reason reassured me. I hoped that the storm would hide me and disguise me from my follower, my killer.

I kept going and even if I could stop, I wouldn't, the Follower was too close to me. Search, searching, found. Found being the worst of the three, Follower was near and closing in on me, closer and closer as I gave up speed and started slowing down upon the snowstorm's arrival. I guess the storm wasn't enough to hide me.

The thing about being chased was that the chaser could give up and lose nothing but the one being chased. But if the one being chased gave up, they lost everything and lost the game while the chaser won everything and won the game. It was all about winning the game, everything. But only a few won the game while most lost and slipped under the waves of despair and distress, drowning in terror and hope that soon faded into nothingness.

Follower was so close that I could feel warm breath on my neck and hear the footsteps close to me, so I used common knowledge and sped up as I felt fingers brush the hood of my coat and suddenly the fingers found purchase on the polyester and yanked back with great force and I stumbled. Falling backward is such a strange feeling, knowing that if you land there's a likeliness that you could hit your head on the way down. But it's more scary knowing you might fall onto ice and snow, and sharp stones protruding from the ground every few feet. With a shred of bad luck, one of those rocks could be on the point of where the head hits. But instead I felt strong arms catch me and I tugged myself up, fighting against the arms that still gripped the coat. Feeling the strength give way, I fled, taking the green polyester jacket with me. Wind whipped my hair around, the brown shade turned purple in the moonlight and I could feel the stars above watching me like beady white eyes,turning and watching each other when I looked up at them.

Follower had the head-start though. Even though I had gotten away that time I could feel footsteps gaining on me and knew my current freedom wouldn't last long. I knew I'd regret the decision I would make but I didn't want Follower to catch me, I didn't want chains slapped around my wrists and ankles then be carried back to warm, hope filled fire and start thinking everything would be okay. But it wouldn't be okay. That would only be a dry excuse for the torment and pain I'd go through afterwards. After the warm fire and good food. After seeing the familiar faces echoing around me, each one to be dead in the next few hours.

Quickly, I unzipped my coat, knowing that underneath was only a thin cotton shirt, probably not enough to keep me safe from the bitter winds that would be bitting at me from all sides, let alone the snowstorm with the power of a lion behind its innocent looks. I tore off my coat and held it for a moment, pondering if the odds of keeping it close rather then throwing it away were better then the odds of my attempted escape and if that works, the likelihood of freezing to death.

I took the side of freezing to death and felt myself moving in the direction of an icy figure, holding my body, my lips blue and cheeks pale with an azure tint to them. And the figure was smiling. I listened for the footsteps and took aim without looking behind me. Looking behind me would waste time. I prayed that I wouldn't miss and threw the heavy jacket behind me, hitting Follower straight in the face.

And I kept sprinting, probably toward the icy figure who held my frozen body.

Follower pitched the coat away from his face and felt time stalling beneath his feet, useful time gone in a few seconds. He cursed and tried to run faster, watching as Jennifer ran farther from his grasp. She ran into a forest of tall trees with ice and snow climbing the branches and sitting on them, chatting like nothing was going on. But Follower knew that there were chances of the girl getting away, knew that the girl might escape from him, but that was impossible, no one could escape from Follower.

The snowstorm wound it's way around his heels as he pitched forward, moving as fast as he could through through the snow. He stumbled on a loose stone and just managed to stop himself from falling face-first into unforgiving snow. And he felt time slipping away from his grasp, he could feel the time he had clutched carefully between two fingers by the hood of a downy coat slipping and coming close to falling back down to freedom. But time will never have freedom with Follower keeping it in his hand.

Jennifer had committed a crime and had to be punished, she had joined the rebels; broken the rules in half, threw them in the trash and waited until twisted fingers came to take the them away to be burned. For the rules to burn and twist into something else. But Follower couldn't let the rules break, the newest government wouldn't either.

Follower was designed to have a victim at all times, to hunt them down and bring them back. He had met Jennifer in the past and knew how to deal with her, but honestly, he hadn't seen the coat in the face coming. It had stopped him in his tracks and made him look like a fool. But Follower was like a dog, almost literally, he had enhanced speed, scent, hearing, sight, and knew exactly where hi victim was. But if they got too far away in the darkness of night then there was a chance of them getting away, he threw the thought quickly out of his mind. Escape wasn't an option. It couldn't be an option.

Entering the woods he stopped, listening for a sound of life. But all he heard was the crisp snow almost echoing around him in the same pattern, like every snowflake wasn't different and they were all the same. It was dizzying to feel like everywhere you looked was mirrors reflecting the same image back and forth until it made you feel seasick. But Follower ignored it, he had been sent here to locate and capture Jennifer, not to imagine the trees as if they were mirrors.

The soft crunching of snow underfoot warned him of someone approaching. Follower tensed up, ready to attack, and waited a few moments to pinpoint the noise, but no sound came and the snow continued to do its job of muffling the sounds into an eerie white silence. He could feel the snow all around him, glowing an ocean blue in the darkness and coming dawn. The trees stood as dark silhouettes lined up in rows at a movie theater, waiting for something to happen. A dark wind blew past Follower's head and he pulled the hood of his coat up to warm them. Another footstep rung out and Follower whirled around to meet the sound but whoever had made it wasn't Jennifer.

A dark figure stood nearby a tree, all there was was a shadowy silhouette. It was obvious they were wearing a burly coat like Follower's, with the hood pulled up against the cold, and for a moment, Follower suspected them of being a rebel but soon decided against it. This person had a strong aura of confidence, something the rebels wire lacking.

Follower had to remember that this wasn't Jennifer, but someone else and he was unsure of how to deal with the situation. But there was no time to decide. The figure moved quickly and confidently through the snow and soon everything in Follower's mind went black except for the insistent thought of where and what had happened to Jennifer. He couldn't help but wonder if she had frozen to death in the crisp snow. His last thought before everything went dark. Failure.

The figure rushed back into the night, knife glistening with crimson blood, as the ocean blue snow and the dark line of trees began to clap for the marvelous show.