The weather was cruel and the sun had started its descent behind low-hanging purple clouds. More snow was tracking the area and temperatures continued to fall. A stalled truck sat exposed beside the highway with steam escaping from under its hood. The owner, like the last person off a sinking ship, had abandoned the vehicle and struck out on foot. When she walked away from the truck, she left more than the keys and her past behind and there was no remorse when she turned for one more look at the truck. She saw it as a symbol of where she had allowed life to take her. Out there, on the deserted Wyoming highway, she knew he was nowhere nearby, but as she stood saying goodbye to her past, the wind caught the collar of her coat. She could feel him gaining on her, breathing down the back of her neck. It would not be easy to shake off the sense of unseen eyes watching, and the feeling of being hunted.