But we kids were wild; we went anywhere we pleased, and we scrambled under the wire. When Louella found us we thought she’d be mad, but she seemed pleased and was real friendly, especially towards my brother.
Robbie met her often after that, sneaking out at night, doing God knows what in the bushes down by the stream.
When his body was found, flesh hanging in strips, blood flushing the stream pink, we realised we’d misread the situation.
The fence was to keep Louella in.
This is a slightly edited re-run of my last story for this prompt, which marks four years since Rochelle first posted for Friday Fictioneers. How time flies! Time is dragging here in France, however, as we linger in the port whilst the river continues to rise, even though it stopped raining two days ago. Neville started his day by wading through floodwater which has spilled over the banks of the port, in order to move our car to higher ground. He liked that… not a lot.