In the thickening mist he stood.
Anger and rage, he clutched in his hands.
Determination, the mask he wore.
His golden eyes searched the forest that surrounded the clearing. He was looking for me.
His ears listened to the silence piercing this moonlit night.
His hair seemed to dance as the trees whispered of the danger that awaited him.
I knew my forced silence was necessary but, more than anything, I wanted to cry out to him to keep him from being hurt. But I couldn't let another soul die because of me. I was better off dead.
He walked foreword, almost as if he knew where I was.
He crouched down to avoid a fallen tree, right where they were holding me captive.
He came too close as the knife that had kept me from running slid across my throat, drawing a deadly crimson line as I fell into my lover's unsuspecting arms.