Open Door at Dusk: She Walks the Track Again - by Diana Piner

The barn door stayed crooked behind her. Lauren felt the cool air on the backs of her thighs and the wet still cooling there as she walked the track with the coat open. She had told herself the first night was freeze, that the shower restored the line, that going back was only to check the field was empty. The wolf had already mounted her three times on the straw before it left her barefoot and aching. Now the rental door remained unlocked. The distinction she needed no longer held the shape of her steps. She had run once. The shape rose from the ditch on the dirt track, larger than any dog, and she fled to the abandoned barn with the red velvet dress already riding high. The door did not hold. Weight across her thighs. One shove that did nothing. Teeth on the neckline. The fabric split. Tongue and then the blunt heat filling her while she kept one hand on its ear and did not pull away.