“Just shadows, nothing to be worried about,” Max muttered to herself as she hurried along the woodland path. Her heart pounded in her throat, making it difficult to hear anything. Each time something rustled in the undergrowth or the wind groaned in the trees overhead, she almost jumped out of her skin, ready to run a mile. Her wild imagination placed monsters with fangs, or men with guns behind each thick trunk, ready to leap in front of her and tear her throat out, or drag her back to that horrible barn and throw her in a cage again.
Closing her eyes for a second, she forced the terrifying images out of her mind. She could do this. She had to do this. It was either that or an unmarked grave out here somewhere when the men with guns caught up with her. That’s if they bothered to bury her
