But now I think her first mommy died trying to escape. I wonder if the same words were in her head. Just walk away. I wonder if they lead her to her death. And now I wonder where they’ve led me.

No. I can’t wonder. Not about anything. I have work to do.

I can cut the wire, or saw through it. But it is thicker than at the top and will take time. As I walk along, pushing aside the branches of small trees, climbing over the roots of larger ones, my face stings from the ones I miss that snap back and scratch my skin. I think about the least number of cuts I will need to make in the wire to create an opening. Four up, four across. Then I can fold it along the midline, making a triangle flap large enough to slide through. I will put the boots on my hands and use them to push against the wire, to protect myself from the barbs.

Where do I stop? Where do I begin to cut this fence?

My legs want to keep moving. My mind tells me to run. It is instinct but instinct is not always smart. I could run and run and end up right back at the gate, having made a circle and gone nowhere. I fight against the instinct. I will only walk until I see something on the other side of the fence that will help me once I cut my way through.

* * *

I don’t know how much time passes. I feel tired. My legs ache from pulling the boots that want to fall from my feet. I am cold from air that is damp in the woods. The leaves and bushes are wet from the rain, and they rub against me and soak through these clothes I wear. My cheeks burn from the cold.

As I walk, my mind wanders. I think about John. I think about us years ago when we’d only just met. When we were two young lovers with all of life in front of us. And that’s what we were—lovers in every possible way. I loved him like I had never loved any man. I loved the things about him that drove other people crazy. He could be far too serious, too honest, too earnest. He was desperate to be a good man. I loved his desperation. I loved that I could ease it just by lying beside him.