I sucked the ocean air into me in sharp stabs as I leapt over jutting rocks. I loved this blue-sky, blue-water run along the cliffs with a fierceness that can only come from growing up with dry yellow paddocks.
Suddenly I could feel it. Someone else’s breath coming over the top of mine, threatening to become mine. I accelerated. Not this time. Not now. The crunch of heavy steps filled my ears. I flung my arms up, scrabbling at the air, trying to block out the sound, the sensation of the rope in my hand, slapping against my thigh. I could imagine the cool of the night on my skin. That’s when I stopped running.
I vomited, supporting myself with one hand against a boulder.