Chapter 62
For some days now, Abigail - along with her dog - had been missing.
Spiker, while pretending he wasn’t looking, was looking. His forays to catch rabbits (and sometimes rats) became longer as he took different - often wandering - paths to the outer reaches of the jungle to check his snares.
Sometimes he thought he caught a glimpse of her short, robust figure, hair every which way, and would shout and hurry, limping along as fast as he could but always it was someone else or a shadow warped by his imagination into being what he wished it to be.
Hera said “At fifteen, I was already on my own, and don’t forget Marple will be with her. No-one messes with that dog. She’ll be OK.”
To which Spiker replied “Dogs can be killed, and there’s so much she doesn’t know.”
Hera smiled. “Sh
