Higher and higher we climbed after hiding the stash.
Our initial escape had been fortuitous, but the horses had slipped in the rains and now the sheriff’s posse was upon us.
The nearby sinkholes were a God-send for dangling our plunder, if only we could find concealment.
The ivy seemed to cling far more tightly than either of us were able to do so.
If only we were not wearing our carnival reds?
Written for Five Sentence Fiction: Requirements: The photo and the theme villainous.