“What if Annabelle did run away?” I asked quietly. “But this is her home,” Mary whimpered. “Maybe she saw what happened to the roosters,” I said. “Freddy will find her if she ran,” Mary sobbed. “He can see her through the trees. He’ll find her.” “He can’t see her through all these trees,” I said firmly, linking my arm through hers. “Look at me.” She did. “Freddy won’t find her, because he doesn’t know her. He thinks she belongs to him, but she doesn’t. She belongs to herself.”
