She wears a child-sized summer dress, and her bare legs are almost lost in his beard. Her hair is almost a fluorescent yellow. She is still very bony, very white, very silent. She smells of her morning bath. There is not much shade here.
Birds scream from all directions.
Beal grunts over a stone wall and crashes through fern and over soggy ground. Her throat tightens. She holds down a garbled scream. They go into a dark pine grove and his boots hiss. They can hear a brook.