It Gets So Lonely Here

You are running through a forest. It is late at night and the sky is as black as pitch. The trees which surround you, jutting out of the earth like eerie monuments to a foreign god, are blotting out most of the moonlight. You do not know where you are going. You have no map; no route; no plan. You have no desire, as you run, save to escape. You cannot let yourself be caught. All you can do ...