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We rode northeast from Draff into the foothills of Mount Mooregardia.

Bitter waves of grief crashed over me.

I startled awake to the crack of thunder.

She stops crying and wipes her eyes.

I just sat there.

Fear chased me.

He let go, stumbled back a few steps, and doubled over in pain.

He mumbled incoherently but didn't wake.

The very fabric of reality before you is ripped as if by great, unseen hands.

I was ejected from a dreamless sleep by a sudden and disorienting terror.

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He looked different — more human, less inmate.

Sometime past midnight, a subtle awareness of my freedom settled on me like a butterfly.

I walked into the bathroom, flipped on the light, and was startled by my reflection.

I hated scavenging.