Jaye Marie and Anita Dawes

Stumbling through the thick, wet undergrowth she tripped on a protruding root and landed on her front. Another barrage of scrapes and cuts lined her face, hands and knees. Her clothes were tattered. She had no idea how long she had been running for.

She pulled herself to her feet. Which way? She tried listening for a clue. There was no sound. At least that meant she had lost her pursuers for the moment, but they would be coming for her. she had to keep moving.

She knew the forest well enough, she had walked and played in it growing up. A memory stirred. Follow the way-stones home. Her father had taught her as a child in case she ever lost her way.

She took a metal hair clip from her head. The forest provided a carpet of leaves, she picked a suitable one. She dipped into a puddle of…