The boy ran until his legs finally slowed on their own.
Not because he wanted to stop.
Because his body forced him.
He leaned against a tree, breathing hard.
"…They were smiling," he muttered.
Why did everyone smile before trying to kill him?
Was that normal?
His stomach growled.
Loud.
Very loud.
He looked down at it.
"…You again."
It growled back.
He sighed.
"Fine. We find food."
He walked this time.
Not ran.
Walking felt strange.
Slow. Boring. Wrong.
He lasted ten minutes.
Then he started jogging again.
"Better," he said.
After a while, he reached a small roadside stall.
An old woman sat there, cooking something that smelled amazing.
The boy stopped.
His stomach made a sound so loud the woman looked up.
"…Hungry?" she asked.
The boy nodded.
"Do you have money?"
He checked his small pack.
Coins.
He nodded again.
"Good," she said. "Sit."
He sat.
Food came.
Hot. Fresh. Perfect.
He ate fast.
Too fast.
The woman watched him with wide eyes.
"Child… are you running from something?"
The boy paused.
"…Yes."
She nodded slowly. "Good. Eating fast saves time."
He liked her.
After eating, he stood up.
"Thank you."
The woman waved him off. "Run safely."
He blinked.
"…You too."
She laughed.
He walked away.
Then jogged.
Then ran.
Because walking was still wrong.
A few minutes later, he stopped.
"…Wait."
He turned back.
Ran to the stall.
The old woman was still there.
She looked surprised.
"Did you forget something?"
The boy thought for a moment.
"…No."
"Then why are you back?"
"…I don't know."
Walking away felt strange.
Staying felt strange.
Everything felt strange.
The woman smiled kindly.
"First time outside?"
The boy nodded.
"Then listen," she said. "Not everyone is trying to kill you."
The boy stared at her.
"…Are you sure?"
She paused.
"…Most people aren't."
The boy nodded slowly.
That sounded better.
Then three men walked up behind him.
Weapons in hand.
Smiling.
The boy looked at the woman.
She sighed.
"…Unlucky timing."
The men stepped closer.
"There he is," one said. "That's the one."
The boy didn't understand.
"How do you all know me?" he asked.
They laughed.
"That's not important."
The boy turned to the old woman.
"…So not everyone?"
She shook her head.
"Just your bad luck."
The boy nodded.
Then he ran.
Wind exploded behind him.
The stall shook.
The men shouted.
The old woman held onto her pots.
"…That child runs too much," she muttered.
The boy didn't stop.
Not this time.
Not even once.
Far behind him, the men slowed down.
"No way we catch him," one said.
Another smiled.
"We don't need to."
The boy ran across the road, through trees, over rocks.
Fast.
Faster.
Still—
That feeling didn't leave.
He stopped on a hill again.
Breathing hard.
Thinking.
"…Running is not a job," he said.
Pause.
"…But I keep doing it."
The wind blew.
The trees moved.
And somewhere far away—
Someone already knew where he was.