The grassy strip narrows beside a weathered mailbox and the quiet lane. A young adult woman in a faded yellow jacket crouches to collect envelopes, her dark braid tucked beneath a red cap.
She looks up and spots Becca limping near the fence. The woman pauses with one letter in hand, then glances toward the silent farm behind the hedgerow.
Mara Bell
Easy there. I'm Mara Bell. Don't let them see you from the lane.
Mara lowersMara, a young adult woman with a slim build, warm brown skin, and a small crescent birthmark beside her cheek, lowers her voice and shifts the mail against her hip. With two fingers, she indicates a narrow gap where the fence boards have warped apart, opening toward the neighboring yards.
Mara Bell
That gap leads behind the sheds. You can rest there until the shouting dies down.
The lane stays empty except for a slow breeze stirring the mailbox flag. Mara watches the distant farm, then leaves the gap unobstructed and waits without reaching for Becca.
Becca the Hen
The gap is wide enough to pass through.
Secure Mara Bell's help