by Kyla Stone
As if he’d understood her, the dog leaped up. Still growling, he released his hold on her and turned and snuffled at the chain looped and inert in the snow.
Hannah lay still, unmoving.
His head lifted, sniffing the air. And then he ran.
He galloped northward, his long legs kicking up snow as he ran between a row of pine trees at the edge of the yard. He never looked back.
Just like that, he disappeared.
Hannah expelled rapid puffs of white smoke. Her cheeks were cold. Her heartbeat thudded loud in her ears. Slowly, she raised one arm and wiped the dog spittle from her face with her coat sleeve.
Disappointment settled in her gut like a block of ice. She’d done it. The dog was free.
She didn’t know what she’d expected. That he would follow her dutifully, licking her hand in gratitude?
He wasn’t tame or trained like a golden retriever. He’d been hurt and abused just like she had. Was it any wonder his instinct was to run as far and as fast as he could?
“Good for you.” She pulled herself awkwardly into a sitting position. Her belly only got in the way as she climbed laboriously to her feet, breathing hard.
She didn’t begrudge the dog his freedom. She knew how desperately they’d both longed for it. Whether he could survive out there on his own, that was the critical question.
The same question facing her.
She would find a way to survive, just like the dog would.
“I hope I see you again,” she whispered.
She’d made it this far. She wasn’t going to let him win. Whatever gift of fate or accident had offered her this chance, she wouldn’t waste it.
The thought of heading out into the great unknown all alone was almost unbearable.
She was weak. Her hand was crippled. And she was pregnant.
Fear gripped her. The evil she feared wasn’t a demon, a ghost, or the imaginary monsters of books and movie screens and childhood closets. Her monster was very real. And very dangerous.
But she wasn’t his anymore. She wasn’t a prisoner. She was free.
And if she wanted to stay free, Hannah Sheridan had to run.
To be continued…
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