He intended for her body to rot in the wilderness. She had other plans.
She couldn’t be certain if images of clawed wet leaves and mud were real or just a rehearsal of her escape or her death.
 Limbs thrashed. Wild eyes. Teeth gritted with spit.
Tear-filled eyes stared ahead, alternating from the death march to a montage of violence.
Footsteps on the soft wet ground.
Fingernails clawing at soft flesh.
Bodies wrestling on the boggy ground, unable to tell if they were upside down as gravity shifted in a nauseating somersault.
What was now and what was to come.