Prompt courtesy of Friday Fictioneers.
Owl and Raccoon hopped the white picket fence and made their way into the old barn.
Since breaking off from the chain gang, they’d been running for three days. Their black and white jumpsuits covered in blood, sweat, mud and sand. Their ankles raw, sore and bleeding from the heavy iron chains shackling them together.
“Must be something,” Owl said. Raccoon nodded and they hobbled forward, arms draped over each other’s shoulders.
They found a mallet and chisel. Owl’d just about busted through a link when they heard the bloodhounds baying.
“Keep going,” Raccoon said. “Almost there. We’re almost free.”