Run!

Run!

The thought came dislodged and fragmented, its meaning clear, but the reasons behind it veiled in layers of exhaustion. Why run? The grass was so soft, like a bed of feathers, like her bed back home. Where it was safe and warm. She was so tired, she just wanted to sleep.

Run!

The thought came again, more insistent, more demanding. And her body responded. She tried to get up, tried to run, but found herself back on the ground, head pounding and the world spinning. Teeth clamped shut against the nausea, she crawled away from the noise of fighting and screaming. Away from the smell of smoke and blood. Slowly she left it behind, never looking back, never taking her eyes off the ground in front of her face, not daring to stand and try to run again. Gravel gave way to grass, cushioning her torn hands and bleeding knees. She was exhausted, utterly spent, her body aching from head to toe, every muscle screaming in protest. It was an effort just to drag herself forward, one slow inch at a time. Then even that was too much and she found herself lying face down, too weak even to roll over. The sounds of the world, the feel of everything around her faded. Left was only her exhaustion, shutting everything out, leaving her numb and alone. Arms reached for her out of the darkness of the night, encircling her waist.

Who? No! Don't touch me!

Panic flared. She lashed out but her efforts to escape were pathetic. Someone lifted her up, took her from her feet.