They were almost hares, the things running alongside the car as we all tore down a country lane too narrow narrow and twisting for us to properly escape. Nobody said it but a part of us knew that if we slowed down and tried to make a break for the darkened doorways of the farms we passed, we wouldn't get more than a foot out before the almost-hares got us.
The more turns we took, the more farms we passed, the less real they all seemed. Little inconsistencies and similarities stood out like a cocktail-sized red flags until every fibre of our minds screamed WRONG, WRONG, ALL WRONG, whenever we passed one by.
Dafydd broke the silence with the innocence and ignorance of all his nine years and asked "Why do all the houses look the same?". We'd been trying not to think to much about it, too busy figuring out exactly where we were, where the next turning would be and when did it suddenly get so dark?
I made the vague excuse that all houses look the same in the dark but Dafydd insisted they were all the same house and we were driving in circles. Herded, my mind helpfully substituted, we're being herded. I didn't say it out loud, just kept placating and glancing at Gaiwan like they'd have better answers.
Their face was tenser than I'd ever seen, all the colour drained out but their eyes were on the verge of crying and it hit me that I was keeping us all calm right now. All the while the almost-hares seemed to double and triple in number with each turn we took and that same bloody farm shot by us and the car was going faster and faster and all those little eyes shone in the headlights until a brighter light shone back.
A lorry, or so I'm told.
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