Toes that end in talons and arms covered in feathers, Rachel runs as best she can with Jo's help, until she's stable and steady and running at Jo's side. But the lights seem to keep pace with them with no trouble at all and every sting multiplies the hurts of the last. Between pain and breathlessness, there's no space for cries. Just the pounding of running footsteps, through bramble and bush and branch, fleeing for their lives.

But up ahead, another sound, past the buzzing and the zapping.

Running water.