She cried out to ensure he followed her. Boots pounded on the ground close behind. Her foot plunged into in a hole. She stumbled and caught herself despite the pain that shot up her leg. A large object loomed in front of her. She dodged right. “You are making things worse,” he shouted. Blood pounded through her ears in a roar. Her lungs burned. Her foot struck something. How long could she run before she fell or hit something? Foliage thrashed behind her. He was near. Annabelle was sure she felt hot breath on her neck. She whirled and swung the branch. Her arm jarred with the hard contact of the branch with a body. He grunted. She swung a second time and the branch cracked on contact. He fell with a loud crash. Annabelle lifted the branch for another swing, but iron fingers clamped around her ankle like a manacle and yanked. She dropped to her backside with a thud, but kept hold on the branch and wacked the man.
