Fighting the fatigue in his legs, Aaron stood and brushed off the dirt from his laced boots. He looked out across the land; light was barely gleaming from the town ahead; it was Weatherdale. Aaron began to walk, slowly at first, but then he picked up a swifter pace. His hair, light brown with streaks of blonde was drooping heavy across his forehead. His eyes were blue, an almost royal blue with a thin white circle around his iris. Aaron was young, a boy of only fifteen, but tonight he felt much older. Weakened by the night’s events, Aaron felt tired and sleep began to overtake him. He walked a little further till he finally came to the outskirts of town. On a hill he saw what was to be his resting place for the night, a rotted old stump covered with grass and moss would act as a pillow and his jacket for a blanket.
Sleep was the only thing Aaron wanted, but what he hadn’t gotten the past few nights. Ever since the attack all he saw when he closed his eyes was the look on his mother and fathers faces as they pleaded for Aaron’s life. It was bad enough that Aaron had to live that experience once, but to live it over and over every night he closed his eyes was cruel. The mind can be a great thing at times, but right now all Aaron wanted was just shut it off. He tried to think of better times, memories that happened before the move to Weatherdale. Just as he began to think of the life they left behind, sleep took him and he dreamed.