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Mara began to move in what she hoped was the direction of the bog. There was a sudden rustling sound just to her left. She jumped and then froze, her heart hammering. She saw something move in the corner of her eye and instinctively swung her head in that direction. A small squirrel with a bushy tail was regarding her with a curious expression.
As Mara blew out a breath of relief, the squirrel scurried away. Rain had begun to fall, though the leaves provided some shelter, allowing only a few fat droplets to splatter through. She remained where she was a moment longer, listening. The last hunter was still somewhere in the forest looking for her. Though she could no longer gauge the time from the position of the sun, she was reasonably sure they were nearing the four-hour mark.
Despite DJ’s statement that no girl had ever lasted the full time allotted, Mara found herself determined to do just that. No one was going to capture her. She’d find a perfect hiding place and maybe she’d never come out. She’d curl so deeply into her flying fantasy that she would sprout actual wings and take to the sky. They would wonder forever what happened to the girl that got away…
Mara was abruptly distracted from her daydream by the unmistakable sound of twigs cracking and brush rustling. That was no squirrel. The hunter was close, way too close. There was no time to climb a tree or even duck into the brush. On pure instinct, Mara took off in the opposite direction of the sound. She flew over the ground, barely aware of the brambles and thorns that reached out to snag her legs and arms and snap in her face.
“Hey,” she heard a man call from some distance away. “Hey, there.”
Her heart smashing in her chest, Mara dropped flat on the ground. On her belly in soaking leaf mold, she wriggled toward the bog, nestled as flat against the forest floor as she could manage. It was raining harder now, the sound of the drops pelting through the leaves blocking out the ever-present break of the waves against the shore. A sudden, blinding flash of lightning illuminated the relative darkness in gleaming quicksilver, followed apace by the roll of thunder. Rainwater plastered the bandana to Mara’s skull, the water running in rivulets over her forehead and into her eyes. She wiped it with the back of her wet hand as she rose into a half-crouch, listening intently for any sign of the hunter.
Hearing nothing but the pounding rain, Mara scuttled crabwise through the brush, arriving finally at the clearing near the bog. She prayed the man hadn’t followed her, but the sound of her own ragged breathing and pounding heart roaring in her ears made it hard to be certain. She leaned over, her hands on her knees, and panted with exertion.
Then she heard it. The sound, once more, of footsteps moving through the leaves and twigs that covered the forest floor. “No!” she cried softly, tears springing to her eyes.
Alex tried to slip into her mind, whispering her mantra, reminding her of why she existed, but his features were blurred, his words an unintelligible garble, and she shook them away.
It was her own internal voice she now paid attention to. Keep going. Get out of sight.
Mara moved as fast as she could through the blinding rain toward the high grasses surrounding the bog. Something slithered by her feet. She startled and bit back a cry. No poisonous snakes, DJ had promised that nasty old man, but non-poisonous snakes weren’t a whole lot lower than their poisonous cousins on Mara’s list of things to avoid in the wild. Still, keeping company with snakes was better than being caught by a rapist, and the sound of someone approaching was getting louder.
Mara darted toward the tall grass and dropped to her hands and knees. She crawled in among the dripping stalks, edging close to the fetid water of the bog. Something cold and wet touched the back of her leg and, in spite of herself, Mara squealed. Jerking her head back, she saw a fat, dark green toad hopping away, no doubt as disconcerted as she. Swallowing hard, the rainwater nearly blinding her, Mara crawled deeper into the sheltering grass.
All at once, a hand closed over her ankle. Blind terror shot through Mara’s core. With a cry, she jerked away and leaped to her feet, her survival instinct adding wings to her heels. She tore through the grass and ran straight for the bog, splashing noisily into the salty, muddy water, which, it turned out, only came up to her knees.
“Hey, hey there!” the man called. “Stop running away. I’m not going to hurt you, I promise. Please, don’t go in that water. You don’t know what’s in there.”
