The ground felt hard beneath her feet. Dashing back and forth she tried to gain speed but the forest floor kept grabbing at her. She could hear him following close behind, the sound of his breathing getting louder and louder as he approached. She looked up begging the heavens to save her, she was growing weaker. Her feet were bloodied, her legs were aching and her heart was moments away from giving up. She ran along the bushes, trying to create obstacles for her assailant. But with each trap he seemed to be propelled forward, his young body molding to the chase. His muscles rippled with strength, clear and perfectly designed, as if handmade out of marble by the very gods she was screaming to.
Her hair whipped through the trees, leaves and branches stuck in every which way. Her feet suddenly became tougher becoming one with the ground. The adrenaline pulsing through her body was calling to him, persuading him to come closer, to pounce. The roots had started to pull at her again. She fell again and again with the young god taking each advantage of each fall. From the ground she jumped forward, as she lunged into the air he caught her waist. She was trapped. Her feet could not leave the ground and her body could not leave his grasp. She looked down at her hands and watched as her white marble skin became cracked and brown. Her hair which had once been so wavy and lovely was now transforming into the branches that she had gotten tangled up in. Then she was gone.
Someone had answered.
(Bernini sculpture of Daphne and Apollo)
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