“Where did
that come from?” Robert asks, staring at the fence. It is solidly
constructed without a single gap. As Robert looks, he realises the
fence surrounds the entire meadow, turning it into his prison.
He
approaches the fence cautiously, wary of other changes to his
environment while hoping that close inspection might reveal some flaw
that he can use to his advantage. But his hopes are soon dashed; the
fence is perfect, seamless, its surface not simply smooth but
polished to the shiny slipperiness of a freshly waxed floor.
“Now what
am I going to do?” he asks himself. “Some rescuer I'm turning
out to be.”
“Dude,”
says a voice beside him, “You're not going nowhere with an attitude
like that.”
