With the Snap of a Twig

A twig snapped. That was it. We were done. The only thing any of us could think to do was run off in different directions and hope for the best. More branches cracked underfoot as everybody scattered. Looking back was not an option. We were being pursued. The gap between predator and prey was closing. Seconds sped by like hours. And then came the dreaded cold, clammy hand on the arm. “You’re it!”