I run. It’s all I can do. Jungle leaves whip face. Feet pound earth. Prey. That’s what I am. Just when I think I’ll outsmart him, just when I think I’m safe, I turn around and he’s there. It’s getting dark. He loves the dark. I run. This is what keeps me alive. He has this smirk. The smile speaks, Come now, you can’t outsmart me. I’ll always know what your next move will be. I always know. And he does. He knows. I run.

He told me last time he caught me that he was tired of my games now. He was getting bored. He said it would all end soon. Today is that day. I can feel it. There is a light breeze. Hot like his breath. The leaves hardly move in this wind. The earth is reluctant to bend under my feet. All the forest is straining, coiled up, a creature ready to pounce. And I run. Me, crashing loud through it. I can’t weave through it like him. That horrifyingly graceful dance. Can’t become the shadows of the jungle like him. I run. Crashing ever louder. I am a caged creature. I run in circles in confinement, desperate for a way out where there is none.

I fall suddenly, coming to a clearing. Try to get up again. Can’t. My whole body is shaking. I sit up, look around for what I’ve tripped on. There is nothing. The ground here is flat and level. I feel exposed in this open. Crawling to a tree, I crouch low. Laughter echoes. I can’t tell where it comes from, but I know what it comes from. I push a hand over my mouth, stifle the scream. Press myself against the tree. Close my eyes.

This is how he usually finds me. Quivering, eyes closed, curled up in a ball. No. I stand. Will not go down so easy today. Force my eyes open. They meet his, inches away from my face. That’s all it takes to unhinge me and I am prey before the predator. I scramble up the tree and sit there, panting, panicking. He smiles that crooked grin again.

“This is why I’ve let you stay alive for so long. You are so entertaining.” He throws his head back and laughs again. Loud, confident echoes bounce long off the trees.

He circles the tree, sniffing around. Checks his watch, smiles again. He’s got all day to wait for me to give up. I close my eyes. Five minutes. Ten minutes. Fifteen minutes. Three times I hear the click of the watch opening and shutting. He doesn’t even need the watch. It’s just for show. To make him seem more human. I am human. He is not. He looks up at me. Eyes meet eyes. Prey stares down predator.

It’s the first time I’ve really looked at him. His face is eerily ageless. He could be 20 or 60. He is above age. But his eyes. They are colorless and all at once every color. They drink me in. I want to look away. But I don’t. I stare. He stares. He is Fear. He is Predator. He looks down at last to check his watch. Click open, click closed. Another five minutes gone.

He emits a low sound in his throat. Almost a growl. Leaping up, he climbs the tree. He doesn’t use the branches. Just grips the trunk. Then he is at my branch. I climb higher. He laughs again.

“Really, now, you must stop playing this game.”

But I’m not climbing out of fear. No. Now I am one step ahead. I will win the game. I climb to the top. The tree is taller than I thought. Good. All the better. I climb until the branches begin to crack under me. But he is right behind me. Hot breath on my feet. I carefully move out onto the edge of a branch. He stands on the branch with me and bounces a little on it. He still thinks he can scare me. I turn and face him. I am not afraid. He stops.

He is confused now. I have his full attention. I smile at him. All is silent around us. I laugh long and loud. I stop finally, but I’m still grinning. He clicks his watch open and closed. Almost dark now. He inches out onto the branch. I smile still, taunting. He is unsure now, but there is still too much predator in him. Out he comes, inch by inch, until we are almost face to face. Prey stares down predator. We pause. Stare at each other. I jump. Crack the twig of a branch that holds us up.

“I win.” I howl at him. We fall.