Jirun squeezes past the resort's wrought-iron gate and leaps into the dark pine forest. The trail disappears under layers of brown needles.
His sneakers crunch loudly as he sprints forward. He thinks: *Faster. Don't stop.*
Jirun halts beside a mossy boulder and presses his ear against the cool stone. He holds his breath and listens.
Behind him, two bright yellow eyes blink from the ferns. A branch cracks. Jirun bolts again, his breath puffing white in the chill air.
Jirun scrambles over a fallen log, his fingers scraping bark. Rustling shadows close in, matching his pace step for step.
A low growl echoes through the trunks. Jirun's chest heaves. He kicks a pile of dry twigs — they scatter like startled birds.
Jirun barrels toward the treeline, his legs burning. The yellow-eyed figure darts alongside him, mirroring every desperate stride.
He tumbles onto the resort's gravel path. A soft *mrrp* — the fox sits beside his shoe, tail curling around its paws. Jirun's fingers hover near its ears, trembling only a little.