The Running of the Strawberry Moon

By Beth Wirth

In Sam's least favorite summer class she meets the most unusual girl, whose secrets help Sam discover the direction her life has long been needing.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Beth Wirth
• Release date: Feb 20, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224929573

Book preview

The Running of the Strawberry Moon

Beth Wirth

Published by Beth Wirth, 2024.

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

THE RUNNING OF THE STRAWBERRY MOON

First edition. February 20, 2024.

Copyright © 2024 Beth Wirth.

Written by Beth Wirth.

Also by Beth Wirth

The Hunt of the Cold Moon

The Running of the Strawberry Moon

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

Also By Beth Wirth

The Running of the Strawberry Moon

It was when she first woke in the morning that Sam was most sharply reminded that summer session was still less than half in, and that her roommate wouldn't return till fall.

Blue always needed several hours of preparation before he was satisfied enough to present himself to the world, and Sam had grown used to being wakened by Blue's disconsolate humming, opening her eyes to see Blue staring unhappily at the rounded curves that filled his sports bra in the full length mirror in the corner of their room. Sam might not live life to the fullest or anything but she wasn't dissatisfied in the way that Blue was.

But now Sam's alarm buzzed her awake to a dark room, and she dragged herself to her chest of drawers, her legs not letting her mind take comfort in soft sheets when there was running to be done.

Sam walked her warm-up in the dark as she crossed campus to where she was supposed to meet Jordan. She did some stretching as she lingered under the massive oak tree, waiting.

The spreading branches obscured the predawn light, and Sam checked her wrist for the fiftieth time in the past twenty minutes before checking her phone again, as if that device would give her different information. Jordan was late, and he wasn't answering her texts.

She heard the sound of someone jogging along the path, and she started with her recriminations before she could see him clearly. I thought I agreed to run with you this summer and you agreed you wouldn't make me late. I've been here almost a half an hour waiting. She pushed off from where she leaned on the tree trunk.

Jordan shrugged his way to a halt beside her, his arms folded defensively across his chest. Sorry.

Sam glared at him. You don't sound sorry. She caught something in the dim light and peered at him more closely. Jordan shifted and turned away, but Sam touched his chin, holding his face still.

Sam worked hard to keep her voice level. Your dad visit?

Jordan shook his head, his expression impassive. You wanna run or not?

Sam let it drop, and they moved out beside each other along the path. Soon, Sam easily took the lead and Jordan settled in behind her. They didn't talk; Sam loved the sound of the world passing by, and Jordan usually had his earphones with something appropriately upbeat filtering through just enough that Sam could hear it when they turned at an intersection. She didn't hear it at all today as they made their way across campus, and when they slowed before they reached the wooded area she glanced back. Jordan was running without earphones. She wondered if the bruises around his eye extended in some way to his ear and made wearing them painful. She grit her teeth and didn't mention anything. He had showed up, and if he wanted to run... well, she wasn't someone who would tell people that you couldn't outrun your problems, even if that problem was a throbbing face.

They ran on, their legs moving easily, accomplishing the distance, devouring it. They ran until their lungs burned, until they reached the place where the path turned away from the campus and forked: one side headed toward a residential street where it ended, the other turned into a mulch and dirt path shaded by live oaks that passed deeper under the trees, and eventually into the depths of the state preserve.

Sam stopped, leaning forward, hands braced on her thighs. She could run for another hour yet, at least—she loved the burn of her