15 January 2021 - 15 Minute Fiction Friday
The sun bore down from above, as though offering its own reprimand for her trespass. But just four more. Four more of Caviche’s apples and they would never again question her bravery.
She pictured them standing by the orchard entrance staring nervously as the dogs she had evaded growled at at the gates, and smiled, reaching out.
The branch snapped and she clutched another, panicked, frantic, as a shape emerged from ahead. It was him, Caviche, but there was someone else. A flash of silver, scarlet; a body fell to the dirt and he turned, smiling directly at her.