Fear. Her skin trembled, goosebumps covered her arms, she rubbed the fine downy hair smooth. How could she be frightened of the night, it was the same in the light of day, wasn’t it?
She knew what was waiting for her, but a silly notion held her in disbelief, that nothing bad would happen from past mistakes.
The cold wind tore through the trees, a whistling, a vibration, reminiscent of trains coursing over tracks in the distance.
She pictured herself riding that train, escaping a true fate of certain death, yet certain death waited at the end of the line. Always the end of the line, always waiting.
Homeward bound - no matter her fear, she calmed, she held her head high, mistakes catching the wind, hurtling them back from which they came.