Abigail saw him coming, and hadn’t thought to be concerned until his large form bent over her, and she found herself caught up in a firm grip. Before she could even think, she was hauled up to her feet sharply and half-guided, half-dragged toward the treeline.
Understanding the need for stealth and swiftness from little more than his brisk attitude, Abigail bunched up what of her skirt she could manage around the journal in her hand and picked up the pace to better keep up with him. Once they were securely out of sight and he’d slowed down, she peered forward, all but peeking around his shoulder as she asked quietly, “Who are we hiding from?”
Ocean Archive 