"Landon moved fast. He jumped over a fallen log and crashed through the trees. There wasn’t a clearing in front of him, but the trees were far enough apart that he could run safely through. Luckily, there weren’t a lot of plants and ferns on the ground. It made his escape a lot easier. He ran as fast as he could, not taking the risk of glancing over his shoulder. He heard the huff and pants of a wild dog right behind him. He was afraid if he looked, he’d trip and the wild dog would jump on top of him. He was glad he had his motorcycle gear on. Even though he was pretty sure a wild dog could still bite through it, it would give him a little protection before the teeth sunk into his flesh and give him time to fight the creature off.
The thought of battling a wild dog sent a surge of fear and adrenaline through his body. He really hoped he didn’t have to confront a wild dog. He didn’t think he’d be able to do it. His first choice was to keep running. Maybe they’d eventually give up. Or maybe he’d run into some hikers in the woods. There always seemed to be people on the trail. If he could just hold out a little longer, hopefully he’d be able to reach them. He knew a wild dog wouldn’t want to confront several people, and he was positive the Ifs didn’t want others to know they existed. It was his only chance.
He turned to his left, sure that was the way back to the trail. Footsteps loped behind him. They weren’t close, but present nonetheless. He ran harder, desperate to get to the trail. He risked a glance over his shoulder. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw three wild dogs coming after him. They panted, their tongues hung out of their mouths. He faced forward. The stream was ahead of him. The stream! It flowed underneath the bridge. If he made it to that, he could get back to the bridge. He was so close to help!
His feet splashed in the trickle of water, and he turned to his left. Landon had a moment of sheer terror. Was he going the right way? He was scared and didn’t have time to figure out which way the water flowed. Still, he needed to take a chance. Even if he went the wrong way, he’d eventually run into someone, he was sure of it. His only hope was that it happened before the wild dogs and Ifs caught up to him.
He continued on, droplets of water hitting him in the face as he tried to run in the water. The wild dogs splashed behind him. The mud from the bottom of the stream pulled at Landon’s shoes, slowing him down and making his leg muscles hurt. Stepping into the water might not have been such a good idea after all. The effort wore him out. He wouldn’t make it to the bridge. Panic set in. Was he actually heading toward the bridge? He wanted to cry. His lungs burned, he couldn’t get enough air. The panting of the wild dogs grew louder, the footsteps drew closer. Sweat formed on his forehead. What was he going to do?
He should scream, call for help, but he didn’t think he had enough energy. His other option was to turn around and face them. The stick was still in his hand, but would it do any good? If he was lucky, he’d hit one of the dogs, but what about the other two? No, his best chance was to keep running."