I was a rabbit, sitting in a large single story ranch style house somewhere in the Midwest. The floors were covered in blue tiles, the windows shaded, and there was a gathering of people inside, spread out among different rooms. I was inside one of them along with a few other people.
Outside our door, in the foyer, I heard shouting. Someone was breaking into rooms, some sort of killer. I turned off the lights, (being a rabbit did not make this difficult) and everybody became quiet.
Someone else flipped a switch that made a sharp noise. We all started to quietly exit the room, into a narrow one at the back and east side of the house. Suddenly the killer broke through the doorway. I bolted through the house, running into the foyer and through the front door.
I ran across the grass and over the multiple fences of a very large lawn until I reached the road. The house was in a rural area, on either side of the road there was nothing but open fields. I didn't know where to go. I started running west, away from the nearby cities.
Although I never actually saw him I knew somehow he was still coming after me. I knew I had to run far away before I would ever have a chance of loosing him. He knew where I was like a supernatural presence, and I knew that he knew.
After some time I turned north and continued running. I passed by a small town, with trees and colorfully painted houses. I kept running.
At some point, I don't remember when it changed, I was running on a dirt road. There were no more towns visible. A fog started to roll in.
I had a pink letter, somehow delivered to me while I was passing by the town. I opened it - he was telling me I couldn't expect to make it up north in the winter. I kept moving.
A motorcycle started approaching.