in the darkness. Each one approaching him had their face masked by the night, as an executioner’s face is hidden by a hood. They moved to him like the grim reaper after a soul, and he could sense that fate was catching up to him. “No, no, NO!” He shoved himself through the brush with all his might, succeeding in getting through, but at the same time he’d cleared a path for his pursuers to march right to him with relative ease. The trees were much larger now and packed in tighter than before. He tried navigating his way through, his body bleeding profusely from innumerable wounds. The barking of the dogs behind him suddenly became louder than the rain, and the men’s shouts louder than the thunder. He had to escape; he knew he could get away. If only he could just run a little farther… “Raise your hands above your head or we will fire!” He felt as if Death had placed a firm hand on his shoulder, as if to say that there was no other option left for him. Madness crept its way into his mind, as he continued to believe that his refuge was just beyond the trees ahead of him. Another shout filled his ears, but this was not another warning. It was just a simple command. “Open fire!”
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