At the risk of being crude, Angela looked as if she"d been yanked through a knothole. Her eyes swam in pink puffs of flesh, tears streaked her cheeks, a smudge marred her jaw. Her hair was disheveled, her clothes filthy, torn, blood spattered, and burned in spots. Yes, burned. She was running like she"d never run before. Uphill through the woods, out of breath, aching in every muscle, running on her last ounce of strength. She hadn"t a step left in her, still she ran on, gasping, shooting terrified glances into the darkness behind.
As she ran, she failed to hear any of the normal sounds of night. No nocturnal animals scampering in the brush, no creatures slithering in the grass, nothing flitting past on night wings. Not even crickets. Nothing but her gasps, her footfalls – and the unearth
