The field went on for miles. In total blackness, no one could know where the empty space ended or where it began. The only real thing about this place was the wet grass she could feel through her sandals as she ran. Running forward here means so little, since one could easily turn one-hundred and eighty degrees and have no sense that one was treading over familiar ground, territory traversed only seconds ago. This landless ocean of a field wasn't being navigated- it was swallowing her whole. Just before she succumbed to being eaten alive by the night, Elita felt the the wet blades of grass give off a waft of steam as they kissed her cheek.

Elita woke to a bruised sky and knew it was impossible to determine how long she had been unconscious. This is the time of day when it takes a few more moments to know if the light might last or if there will be more running through the abyss like an escaped convict. If the light continued to develop, today would be a day she could establish a direction to move. She would run to the east to become someone she recognized if possible. If they would allow her. If they would let her go.

She began heartily scratching the tiny red raised bumps on her legs and wondered if malaria was carried by the mosquitoes this far north. She took a long look at the muddy purple air and began to plead with the sky for a few more hours of daylight to travel. She hoped this expanse of obscurity wouldn't take more than a few more days to cross. If she could locate some kind of township, she could procure a vehicle and travel with greater ease. To get a vehicle would mean not sleeping in the cold grass. And, at this point, she would gouge out an eye for a hot bath.