She leaned back into the tree hoping that her natural curves would blend in with the silhouette of the mature oak tree. She had run all night, her throat was parched. Torturously, a heavy mist hung thick in the morning air..she could feel the clay drawing all the moisture out of her feet. Sweat saturated her thin cotton work dress. Cotton, how she hated even the thinking of that word.
She could hear the dogs barking across the field, but she dare not look. As the fog began to dissipate, a curious squirrel stopped for a look, clacking it yellow teeth together emitting a territorial chirp.
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Reblogged this on Die Erste Eslarner Zeitung – Aus und über Eslarn, sowie die bayerisch-tschechische Region!.
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Thank you for the reblog
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Very nice
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