A Means of Escape

Them damn hounds, and the fat belly bastards behind them, were still on his tail. Their baying bounced off the corkscrew tree trunks, echoing and distorted. Panicked, and weak, he stumbled over an exposed root, and fell hard.

A woman appeared, bent down in front of him. She smelled of freshly turned earth. He opened his eyes and saw her. Knew she looked familiar, knew he could trust her, knew he would follow her.

The hounds circled the area while the men scratched their heads, looked at the pile of clothes and wondered if the damn fool was running naked.

 

Prompt courtesy of the Friday Fictioneers. Read more stories here.

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5 thoughts on “A Means of Escape

  1. Glad to see you back with the FF crowd – lots of mystery here, and a nice hint of hope. I personally felt we lost the voice of the first sentence in the rest of it. Not sure if I preferred it with or without the voice though

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