I found her at the fence, where I always do.
She didn’t bother looking at me with hatred in her eyes, or spitting recriminations, or crying or begging. She’s gotten over all that. “Of course not.”
It must be difficult for her, to want to escape so badly but to have been rendered incapable of doing something so simple as crossing a fence-line. A deer could jump it easily; she cannot climb it or slip between the boards.
“Why not come inside?”
She just stared across the marsh into the mist. Perhaps she’ll try to kill me again.