The dogs barked. They were getting closer.
“Dear God, please save me.” She clutched a small rock tied to a thong and prayed they not sniff her out. She’d stolen a crust of day old bread for her kid brother, but that was illegal. Draconian laws still demanded her hands be amputated for thievery.
She pulled herself further underneath the poplar’s roots. The dogs’ feet splashed in the creek as they sniffed and snorted.
“Hoh!” a man’s voice called. The dogs looked up and ran back to him, the hunt called off.
She waited until they left, then ran for the next county.
This was written for Sammi Cox’s Weekend Writing Prompt #132, Draconian.