They’d left yesterday morning, the blood running bright from Raccoon’s nose.
When they heard the car coming up behind them, they slipped through the fence, and slid down the damp slope until they lay, face down, in the tallest grasses on the creek’s shore. Gravel crunched under heavy, slow-moving tires. They held their breath and waited.
The police car slowed, stopped. The door opened. A body climbed the fence. He called out their names and waited and finally Owl and Raccoon forced themselves to their feet.
Wrapped in blankets, sitting in the cruiser’s back seat, they planned their next escape.