Page 4 of Captive Heart

As she searched the dark, she could see no evidence of outside lights, the only illumination on this side of the house coming from a frosted glass window on the upper level, which she guessed might be the bathroom. It gave off just enough radiance to cast a little pool of light around the front of the house and to show a gate in the shadows off to the far right.

That was where she needed to be heading, she decided. If she stayed within the cover of the trees, she'd remain out of sight. She could follow the path of the river as far as it was practical, so she didn’t need to cross it.

And that was exactly what she planned to do, until unholy temptation caught her eye.

There, on the porch, was a pair of Wellington boots. She stood there, her eyes glued to them while her legs shook with the cold, and the throbbing ache in her feet seemed to become more pronounced, the longer she considered the footwear.

She swallowed and realised tears were stinging at the back of her eyes. She had never stolen anything in her entire life, but she was so desperate and so very cold.

Could she do it?

Could she bring herself to take them?

Steal them?

Except…how much further would she get if she didn't find some kind of protection from the elements?

Already, the adrenaline which had brought her this far was beginning to wane and the bite of the harsh chill was taking its toll on her body.

Her extremities were numbing once again. Faster, this time, because of the sweat that slicked her body.

Was a life-or-death situation a reasonable excuse for theft?

She came to the eventual hard-won conclusion that, actually, it was.

As she looked all around her once more, she psyched herself up to dart across the clearing in front of the cottage. She took deep breaths as she tried to rationalise her actions, even while tears of guilt and self-loathing prickled behind her eyes.

As she made it to the other side and pressed herself up against the shadows of the front wall, she became aware that she was trembling almost uncontrollably. However, it wasn't because of the cold this time, but fear. She knew she was crying still, because she could feel the tears chilling on her cheeks after first warming them.

Giving herself a mental slap, she crept to the porch, darting out her hand to grab the boots. She was about to spin away again, when her gaze lit on a long, thick scarf draped over a peg. She stared at it for the length of a heartbeat.

Well, in for a penny, in for a pound.

She wept some more as her heart broke just a little at what she was about to do. But her desperate needs came first, and she snagged the scarf as well before sneaking away with her ill-gotten haul and sprinting for the gateway she had spied.

"I'm sorry; I'm so sorry. I'll make it up to you, I promise!"

She kept up the murmured litany under her breath as she ran away from the dimming pool of light around the perimeter and didn't stop until she had cleared the other side, taken stock of her situation, and pinpointed a new target to head for.

She ran clumsily, lumbering along with her limp, doing her best to clutch the tarpaulin around her while hitching the Wellington boots under her arm. She bundled the scarf up in front of her and desperately tried to avoid dragging it along the wet ground and getting it soaked, but she couldn't bring herself to stop until she was out of sight.

The soft wool already felt warm and somehow comforting under her hand as she headed for the horizon where the land dipped enough to be certain that whatever was beyond remained hidden from the view of the cottage she had just robbed.

When she got to the banked edge of the field, it was steeper than she had imagined.

Her tired limbs were having trouble keeping her upright, and the strain of maintaining her balance on the steep slope was more than her beleaguered body could handle. Her feet slid out from beneath her and she landed on her butt. The slick tarp had her slithering down the bank and gaining momentum until all she could do was hold on for dear life, try to stay upright, and wait until she came to a sprawled halt near the bottom of the hill.

"Well, at least that speeded things up," she groaned as she righted herself and made a grab for the boot she’d dropped.

It was so damn tempting to just stay where she was. Her limbs seemed warmer now and her eyes were heavy. The thought of picking herself up and moving on again held little appeal, now the adrenaline was gone. She could just stay right here.

This side of the hill sheltered her from the worst of the wind, or did it? she wondered as a wet gust picked up the edge of the tarp and fluttered it into her face, bringing her to her senses momentarily.

She groaned out loud, that pesky survival instinct blaring a warning bell inside her head.

Move! She needed to move. The only reason she would be starting to feel warm would be the onset of hypothermia. She needed to cover up and find some shelter.

When she looked around, she spied what looked like a barn away in the distance. Could she make it that far?

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