Excerpt with permission:

The little girl crouched in the tangled patch of thorns and briars, shaking. Her terror-filled eyes were wide. Her lips trembled. The matted, muddy mess of her blonde hair blended perfectly with the scraggly limbs of the brush around her. She was young. Five years old. But her survival instincts had been honed over the last few years. She knew she had to stay quiet. And small. Maybe, just maybe, Earl wouldn’t find her. Maybe she could make it till morning. She crouched a little lower in the darkness. Just maybe.