Orange Fungi Floor

She ran with the real fear of being chased. Her insides were as hot and sweaty as her skin. It had been pursuing her for impossibly too long. Unsure of how much more fear she could absorb, she fell to her knees among the brambles. Something soft squished under her palm. She was surrounded by orange. Like discarded tangerine skins, the fungus invited her to the after picnic unswept floor. It was suddenly nearby, she could feel the squeezing of her stomach and the race of her heart. She knew she was too exposed to not be caught. It would only be a moment before it would all begin again. She could suddenly hear it. As it approached she froze. She was in sight, but couldn't raise her arms or scream. She waited for it to grab her. Pinching her eyes shut, she froze. She waited what seemed like too many seconds. What was it doing? Why was it hesitating? Slowly she peeked and saw it so close. Close enough to snatch her, tear her apart effortlessly. She could feel its wrath seeping from it while it panted, but it was not staring at her. It was looking through her. It jerked its head from to the side, sniffing with a muffled growl. She stared in disbelief as it darted away. How had it not seized her? Inspecting her surroundings she realized she lay in a bed of thorns that had not scratched her. The squashed orange mushroom was no longer squashed. She was pristinely placed in a jagged tangle, with no fuss of scratches or scrapes. She laid down on the impractical bedding that defied logic, cushioning her sleep while hiding her from the forest.