It's very early morning, and the air is damp and misty. I claw through the woods, panting and sore. Yesterday I had surged through the trees and countryside at breakneck speed, but over the course of the night been reduced to crawling through the filthy undergrowth, a seething mud splattered savage. At first I'd shouted for help, but no one would when they saw what was chasing me. To them I was already in my grave.
Frantically I look for somewhere to hide and rest my injured leg, which was throbbing painfully. Suddenly I hear branches snap. I've left a crimson trail of blood behind me. So I can't hide. And I can't run. And it's found me.
Great beginning - I am already shivering! You have created suspense and intrigue with your word chose. There is also onomatopoeia in your work. This is a quality text. Well done.
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