I run.
I don't know what else to do.
I'm lost.
Alone.
I've no home to go back to. At least, not anymore.
I'm a stranger in this land.
Worst case scenario, I'll get picked up by soldiers.
But I've gotten this far, and I know who I need to see.
So I run, the soles of my feet sore and burned from my attempts to leap over the flames now far behind me. Even still, black smoke billows against the sky above, dark against the pleasant color of the evergreens reaching far into the wood. Even though I've reached the wider part of the forest, far from my abandoned village, I don't rest. I can't, even though I know that I'm not being followed. What soldier would follow a simple girl when ranks of angry farms-men stood in front of them. I clutch my chest at the remembrance of my brave kinsman, the one reason I was able to escape into the safety of the forest. I owed them, and I would make it to my destination. I tug my thick woolen cloak tighter around my thin shoulders and continue my quick gait, determined to get to the other village before nightfall.
Because I'm afraid if I don't make it by then, it will be too late. Already I can feel the one thought I'd played over in my head start to slip away, no matter how much I think of it.
That one thought that may well save us all.
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