Booby traps!

With a cry, she sprinted toward the exit, her bare feet slapping against the stone floor. Her bare breasts heaved wildly as she ran naked. The walls of the tomb seemed to close in around her, the air thick with the scent of ancient dust and the acrid tang of the curse. The mummy began to stir, its bandaged limbs unwinding from centuries of slumber.

The first booby trap sprang into action as she rounded a corner, a spike-filled pit gaping before her. Evelyn was running too heedlessly to avoid them. Without a second's hesitation, Evelyn hurled herself over the gap, her naked body arching through the air. She felt the tips of the spikes graze her flesh, leaving a trail of stinging pain in their wake. Her breath came in ragged gasps as she hit the ground, her skin scraped against the cold, harsh stone.

A second trap followed, a shower of flaming arrows shot forth from the walls. She dodged and weaved, her body moving with the agility of a gazelle, the flames kissing her skin but failing to hold. The heat was intense, but she felt an unyielding resolve pushing her forward. Her eyes remained locked on the exit, her only salvation from the vengeful spirit now in pursuit. Her hair got a little singed, her backside slightly pinkened, but she'd made it.

The floor beneath her shifted, collapsing into a maze of deadly spikes. Evelyn's instincts took over as she vaulted and tumbled through the narrow gaps, her breasts and hips bouncing uncontrollably with each impact. The mummy lurched behind her, its movements jerky but surprisingly fast. Her heart raced not just from fear, but from the exhilaration of the chase.

In the next chamber, a wall of sand blocked her path. The curse had anticipated her every move, but Evelyn's mind was a whirlwind of desperation and ingenuity. She dove into a nearby sarcophagus, the lid sliding shut just as the sand swept over her, leaving her in darkness. The muffled sound of the mummy's pursuit grew fainter as she held her breath, the coolness of the stone pressing against her naked flesh.

The moment the sandstorm passed, she pushed the lid aside and emerged, coughing and gasping for air. Her skin was now coated in a fine layer of grit, adding to her overall dishevelment. Her hair was wild. Her breathing was ragged. Her pale, bare body was sweaty and grimy. The tomb was silent once more, but she knew the mummy was still there, waiting.

The final stretch was a labyrinth of corridors, each one leading to potential doom. She could feel the mummy's malevolent energy growing stronger, its unblinking emerald eyes seemingly watching her every move. Yet, she refused to let fear or modesty slow her down. This was a battle of wits and endurance, and she had come too far to falter now.