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Magda was panting but she didn't stop running. She felt the sting of cold air against her face and broke through the salal that covered the entrance. She ran, sure-footed now, along the driftwood logs and up the steep bank.

 

"Quick, Brent," she called over her shoulder. "Grab your bike."

There was no answer from Brent. She looked over her shoulder.

 

He wasn't with her. She fell to her knees. She was alone.