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Description
SNAP. A twig snapped somewhere in the forest. Maggie looked up from her work in the meadow to glare suspiciously into the trees. Her sharp eyes could detect no movement out of the ordinary however, so she soon returned to harvesting the blueberries from the bushes that were scattered throughout the grassy clearing. She had three small baskets filled to the brim and then some already laying on the ground near her feet. This fourth basket was her last, and would give her the amount she needed to make her pie later this evening. She brushed her auburn hair out of her eyes and bent to reach some particularly juice-swollen berries near the bottom of the bush she was working on.

She was standing in an oblong shaped meadow, about 25 feet wide and maybe triple that in length. It was filled with short grasses and small bushes, about half of which were blueberry. On the edges here and there were scattered raspberry plants, which would be ready to harvest in a couple of weeks. She licked her lips in anticipation of the jam and pie that would follow that harvest.

She leaned back with a sigh, shading her eyes with her hand and looking up at the sun, which was starting to approach the tree line. She loaded the baskets into the bag she always carried and slung it around her shoulder, the strap making a diagonal line across her chest. She turned towards the path she had carved through the trees over the past few years and with another sigh started towards home.

SNAP. The sound was closer and there was no mistaking it this time, someone or something must be in the trees nearby, potentially watching her and waiting for its time to strike. A rustling sound came from her left, in the undergrowth at the edge of the trees, and suddenly Maggie was off. Flying as fast as her feet could carry her, sprinting for the relative safety of her home, Maggie ran; knowing that she would be safe once she got behind her deadbolt. Nothing could harm her in her home.

She ran along the worn path through the trees, barely even needing to look where she went in the familiar landscape. To her right she could see a dark shadow flickering here and there in the undergrowth. Pushing harder, she neared her home and the trees fell away, replaced with long grass and wildflowers. She reached the white fence that surrounded her small, well kept yard and ripped open the gate, panting from the effort of her flight. She heard the slightest of sounds behind her and knew she was too late as she fell to the ground with a thud.

Description
SNAP. A twig snapped somewhere in the forest. Maggie looked up from her work in the meadow to glare suspiciously into the trees. Her sharp eyes could detect no movement out of the ordinary however, so she soon returned to harvesting the blueberries from the bushes that were scattered throughout the grassy clearing. She had three small baskets filled to the brim and then some already laying on the ground near her feet. This fourth basket was her last, and would give her the amount she needed to make her pie later this evening. She brushed her auburn hair out of her eyes and bent to reach some particularly juice-swollen berries near the bottom of the bush she was working on.

She was standing in an oblong shaped meadow, about 25 feet wide and maybe triple that in length. It was filled with short grasses and small bushes, about half of which were blueberry. On the edges here and there were scattered raspberry plants, which would be ready to harvest in a couple of weeks. She licked her lips in anticipation of the jam and pie that would follow that harvest.

She leaned back with a sigh, shading her eyes with her hand and looking up at the sun, which was starting to approach the tree line. She loaded the baskets into the bag she always carried and slung it around her shoulder, the strap making a diagonal line across her chest. She turned towards the path she had carved through the trees over the past few years and with another sigh started towards home.

SNAP. The sound was closer and there was no mistaking it this time, someone or something must be in the trees nearby, potentially watching her and waiting for its time to strike. A rustling sound came from her left, in the undergrowth at the edge of the trees, and suddenly Maggie was off. Flying as fast as her feet could carry her, sprinting for the relative safety of her home, Maggie ran; knowing that she would be safe once she got behind her deadbolt. Nothing could harm her in her home.

She ran along the worn path through the trees, barely even needing to look where she went in the familiar landscape. To her right she could see a dark shadow flickering here and there in the undergrowth. Pushing harder, she neared her home and the trees fell away, replaced with long grass and wildflowers. She reached the white fence that surrounded her small, well kept yard and ripped open the gate, panting from the effort of her flight. She heard the slightest of sounds behind her and knew she was too late as she fell to the ground with a thud.