The dew was making the grass stick to the bottom of her feet as she ran the length of the fence.
The coolness of the ground felt good to her cut and scraped feet.
She had no idea how long she had been running.
There had to be a house or farm or something at the end where she could get help.
She stopped , took a breath and listened.
Only the sound of her heart pounding and labored breath was in her ears.
Maybe it was no longer back there. She took a quick look over her shoulder….
This was written for Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. If you would like to play along, please follow the prompt below and give it a try!!