4.
The cold, wet, hem of Jaclyn’s cloak slapped against her ankles as she ran along the river bed. Water reached up at her like gelid tendrils. She didn’t know why she ran or where the river was leading her, she only knew that she couldn’t stop. Something was trailing her, just behind, and if she gave it an opportunity...well, she didn’t want to imagine the outcome. She just followed the river as far as she could.
Eventually, the landscape dissolved into a thick, heavy fog. Jaclyn didn’t even know if there was actual ground below her feet. Her heart pounded in her ears and she could hear Butterscotch yowling somewhere not far off.
Butterscotch! she thought, her throat swelling as it came over here. How could she be so foolish as to leave Butterscotch behind?
She would have to go back for the poor cat. She decided this instantly, but the fog hung like curtains. There was no way of knowing which way back actually was.
Butterscotch yowled again, sounding closer this time. Jaclyn closed her eyes, moving toward the sound of the cat.
When she opened them again, the fog had thinned. She was still on the riverbank, but she could see a shape up ahead. It was a person, crouched down into a squat, with a large calico cat weaving in and out of its legs. “Good kitty,” whispered a very familiar man’s voice.
“Dad?” Jaclyn called, unable to believe what was happening.
“Good job, Butterscotch,” he said, not looking away from the calico to see his daughter.
“Daddy, it’s me, Jaclyn!” She called again, but still he did not answer her. She suddenly realized that she was carrying something and looked into her hand. A pomegranate rested there, though she was sure she hadn’t been carrying one before.