And so I ran and I ran and I ran. I ran through the dewy grass of the yard and into the back of the wood. I ran and I ran and I ran. Like a wild woman would. Like I would.

I threw the papers down to the ground from the grip of my left hand. I threw down the jar of my last sips of bitter black coffee from the grip of my right hand. I threw it away and I ran. I ran and I ran and I ran.

I ran into the arms of the wild, like a wild woman does. I ran through the sand and the grass and the water and the trees and the thorns and the brush. I howled out to the open morning sky. And I ran and I ran and I ran. Like I would. Like a wild woman would.

I ran to find answers. To find comfort. To find clarity. I ran into the unknown in order to know what it is I wanted to know. I looked up at the birds and down at the tracks. I listened to the wisdom of the wild, wild woods. And I ran and I ran and I ran. I ran like a wild woman would.

Because when a woman of wild nature is pushed into the depths of the darkness of the night and the great unknown, she will run and she will run to her sacred wild home. And there she will know, she will see once again, that through the darkness of the night the light never ends.

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