I race up and down ravines through the forest with Taylor bouncing along on my shoulder. After about 20 minutes, I realize I should be winded, but I’m not. My foot slips on a pile of dead leaves as I’m climbing another hill. I stumble, but I quickly get up and keep going.
“I don’t think they’re still following us,” I hear Taylor say.
I slow down and take a few more steps before stopping. I stop and drop Taylor on her feet. Her knees buckle and she drops to the ground. Dirt is clinging to her cheeks along where tears trailed down her face.
I lean over and put my hands on my knees. Now that I’ve stopped, I’m panting. The rush catches up with me and I’m exhausted. And absolutely full of questions.
“What…” is all I can manage to get out between panting.
Taylor doesn’t answer me. She just
