I scramble up the hillside, panicked that I may be followed. As the bits of dirt and fallen leaves become dislodged under my feet, I slip momentarily before I gain the top, grasping the roots and saplings which protrude from the steep embankment. I cannot hear anything, but my mind continues to race as I scan the wooded landscape for any pursuers.

I can’t believe they’re all dead.

We came into the land apart from each other and did not make any rendezvous while we carried out our mission, but somehow they were all captured and executed one by one.

I saw this happening. I stood in the crowd as my comrades were put on display and beheaded. I sat by and watched, unable to stop it from happening. The soldiers stood guard around the podium, watching the crowd for any signs of malcontent as the axe man carried out his gruesome duty. Panic took hold of me and I quickly departed.

As soon as I reached the edge of the crowd, I bolted. Running as fast as I could through the streets of the unfamiliar city, I found my way out as running footsteps followed me. I know not if they were real or imagined, but I dared not turn to see. I kept running until I had exhausted my strength and buckled over to vomit, then kept running.

The forest closed in around me and wrapped me in an embrace of security. I felt safe as I slowed and trudged over the leaf litter on the forest floor, disturbing the mice and chipmunks hiding within. For a long time I walked, lost among the trees. I kept a generally northward track, searching for any sign of landmarks which I recognized.

Slowly, gradually, I began to see streams that I knew, recognized farms of my countrymen. I stood at last upon the last summit before I reached my home and looked down upon my city with smoke rising from the chimneys as the people cooked their evening meals. Somehow, I had made it home. I am safe.