She heard a tread coming along the veranda. Her stomach tightened. Boncer. He had not come near her again but she could feel his hatred, how he watched her through the prism of his fear, how he liked to imagine her suffering. If she were an animal she could forever outrun him, through the grass, across the fields and up along the ridge, the scrub whirring by as she hurtled, fast as a rabbit or a hawk, spinning across the land.
