Remington & The Mysterious Fedora

He’s coming, she knew. That was the thought from which her fear blossomed. They are all looking for me. They think I belong to him. They will take me back. I will never let that happen.

She rubbed her stomach, feeling the life growing there. She leaned back again, starting to give in to the embrace of the water, letting it draw her to the white light of death. It would be so easy to give in. She almost succumbed to the siren call of that brightest light when the baby prompted her with a sudden, violent kick. That kick saved both of their lives. With a dazed grunt, she pushed herself up, lifting her body out of the cold water. The pebbled floor of the river was uncomfortable on her feet, but she carefully stepped over, using the larger ones until she reached the bank.

As she stumbled her way to dry land, she remembered falling, trying to ford the river. The knot on the back of her head must have come from a fall, she thought.

It wasn’t a cold day exactly, but the temperature was dropping and she knew it would be dark soon. Cold would be an even worse enemy to her now than the man - those men, to be precise - were chasing her, following her tracks through the landscape.

That’s why she crossed this river, to hide her tracks, at least for a while. They would spend a significant amount of time searching both sides of the river, looking for her tracks to appear again. It was inevitable that they would pick them up; she didn’t have the skill necessary to hide all the footprints and broken leaves and branches her passing would leave behind.