I can hear the heavy footsteps crunch the gravel less than a meter away. From the sounds of it, there must be at least 10, maybe more.
I hug my knees to my chest and scrunch up my face. Hot sweat pools in the centers of my shaking fists as the paralyzing fear consumes me. I can feel bugs crawling all over my back, but I can’t move.
My knife is sheathed in my boot, inaccessible from this angle. If they happen to look into this specific tree hollow, I’m as good as dead.
Someone gives a harsh order. I hear the sounds of liquid being poured. A single shot, so loud I almost throw up. And then an explosion. Gravely footsteps hurry away, and they’re gone. But when I finally emerge, I realize that the danger is still present. The whole forrest is burning; each tree a crackling inferno. I am surrounded by the very fires of hell. Smoke stings my eyes, and the hot embers singe my clothing, while hordes of creatures flee in every direction.
I wish I could follow.
But there is no escape for me.