Dusk sowed threads of gold and pink, long grass stood like soldiers and towering trees blocked the sun that should’ve been restoring dead crops of flowers.

I darted from one oak to another, Diego yapping at my heels, observing the rim of the meadow. Nick whistled from a nearby bush, signalling danger was on its way.

We took no notice of the sign and pelted into the grass. I heard a rustle from behind. I needed to hide somewhere. Leaping behind a log, I landed on something solid. In hope it could be some use I scraped away the dirt.