back. The leader of the pack has an arrow sticking out of its neck. In the distance, the twanging of bowstrings heralds the imminent arrival of more projectiles, though the woman does not linger long enough to espy the outcome. Satisfied the monsters are now well occupied, she pushes on until the shadow of the wall falls upon her. A moment later, a gate comes into view.
Safety. At long last.
It is a relief so sweet that it robs her of the last vestiges of strength. Not a dozen paces away from the gate, she collapses in a heap.
Just Another Struggling Writer 
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