Gatorade.

She ran and ran and ran. And she didn't stop. Not yet.

Past the mountains and plains and plateaux and deserts and grasslands, she ran.

Her body was getting tired but her mind wasn't.

She ran through the cities and villages and towns.

Then she stopped near a small run down shop, rather abruptly for no reason.

And she suddenly felt tired - she was still clutching the bag in her hands.

"Give me something to drink", she told the old shopkeeper.

"What do you want my dear?"

"Give me something to drink."

"How long have you been running my dear?"

"Since 1978."

"Here, have this", he passed her a bottle of Gatorade.

"How much is it?"

"For a girl as lovely as you, it's free. What is your name, my dear?"

"Erendira."