Rabbit ran as hard as he could, running for his life. Muddy swamp water filled his sneakers and sucked malevolently at his feet, slowing him down. His breath steamed in the frosty night, coming in great gasps, but he pumped his arms harder, forcing more air into his tortured lungs. Behind him, the baying dogs sounded closer. The ground hindered them less than it did him. Underfoot, the squelching stopped suddenly and his feet gained traction. Ahead, through the thinning trees, a swath of silvery grass ended in a lighted ribbon of asphalt.
There was no going back.
I guess he could be an escaped convict, but I was hoping he’d make it.
It’s quite possible he does:)