Clara broke faith and glanced over her shoulder, her eyeballs jostling wildly. The field behind her was shaking as if viewed through a hand-held video-camera, yet even amidst all the blurry confusion, she was able to see something tall and dark surging after her through the grass.
It was a black and red sail.
She turned back around and pumped her legs harder. Blades of grass flashed out of the darkness—lashing at her face, stabbing at her eyes. Her heart seemed to be trying to punch through her chest. She wanted to scream, tried to scream, but the breath was not hers to expend. Her shiny black shoes flew over the ground, kicking aside rocks and crushing down stalks. Then they faltered in their panic, twisted about each other as if caught up in barbed wire—and she fell sprawling into the
