The Dogs of Night by Joanna M Weston

The Dogs of Night by Joanna M Weston

Darkness, brambles, tangled undergrowth, as she stumbled, dogs
snuffling, howling, coming fast behind her. Was there an end?
No time to think, just run, run from the fear of what followed
her, from the dogs, their teeth, their yellow eyes. She tripped,
fell head-long, rolled down a slope. Shrubs tore at face, hands.
She tried to catch hold of a branch. She slammed against a tree?
a rock? There were no stars, no moon, only darkness, and a musty
silence. No dogs. She sat up slowly, felt around her. A fallen
tree behind her, earth wall on one side, floor of dirt, small stones,
grass. An almost vertical slope in front of her. She stood, banged
her head. She was safe: a hidden cave. No dogs.


Copyright Joanna M Weston 2019

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