*by Stephenie Meyer*
TWILIGHT - chapter 13 - CONFESSIONS
If I'd ever feared death before in the presence, it was nothing compared to now.
He streaked through the dark, thick underbrush of the forest like a bullet, like a ghost. There was no sound, no evidence that his feet touched the earth. His breathing never changed, never indicated and effort. But the trees flew por at deadly speeds, always missing por inches.
I was too terrified to close my eyes, though the cool forest air whipped against my face and burned them. I felt as if I were stupidly sticking my head out the window of an airplane...
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