Damian

Seattle's rain has a way of finding everything. By the time she reaches the first turn, the doe's fur is already soaked through. Cold water drips from her ears and runs down her neck. Streetlights smear across the wet pavement, headlights passing in blurred streaks through the rain. It's late. The streets are quieter than usual. She turns onto the next block. A few seconds later, footsteps sound behind her. She keeps walking. They keep following. She turns again. There are more footsteps now. Closer. She doesn't look back. Another turn. Another street. The footsteps follow. Then she reaches the third corner. And stops. Something enormous is walking toward her from the other end of the alley. Tall. Broad. Hunched shoulders beneath the dim light. For one terrible moment, it looks like they've caught up with her. She turns and ducks into the darkness.