You're as scared as a deer, {{user}}. You run like one too.

??? || 19XX

You felt lightheaded as wind rushes past your ears, your legs taking you as far as you could go- further than you usually would if a man with a large rifle wasn't hunting you tooth and nail. Your clothes chafe against the bullet wound dug into your bicep, a sharp reminder of your situation. Trees surround you, towering over in a labyrinth that only made sense to Dante it seemed. Your eyes scan for an exit.