Walking out of the cottage was like walking out of a nightmare, and into a dream. She was floating down the steps towards him, he, watching her apprehensively. Neither one of them spoke, but they simply just stood there, and stared at each other.
His haunted eyes met her understanding eyes, and a feeling passed between them, as if some unspoken problem had been figured out. He grabbed her hand and they ran, past huts, past cottages, past yards.
They flew into the village. That small area, usually bustling with everyone who lived there, was still. Not a thing in sight. They ran faster yet, seeking out the jailhouse, as cold as a merciless soul.
They made it. Slowing down, still linked by the hands, they stared up at it. The moon, a full bright one, came out from behind a dark cloud. It cast their shadows against the ground.
And right beside the jailhouse, bathed in moonlight, were the gallows.
