From the trail the old tree looks lopsided. A solitary branch separated from the green leafy mass to the right. String of biege hangs still upon it.
The afternoon Sun puts a premium on shade. The old tree makes for a good stop between isles of scrub bush. The winds that were so free in morning have retreated. Sound is hiding along with it too.
Under the tree, footprints paint a picture of a tussle. It appears two or three on one. They circle under a rope tied into circle. No signs of anyone left here. The cool respite may feel strange but it breaks the heat. My eyes grew a bit heavy from the ride. As I’m alone, rest should be about quickly.
Slumber slips away from me. Dreams stir of people. Strange dark men hunting and calling out. Its a struggle oddly muffled. My eyes open to darkness.
Arms have me and I lunge forward. They aren’t speaking my language. It feels they are questioning me. My throat grows tight. My mouth opens but i have no breath to yell.
“Boys, you got the wrong one!” A voice distant rings.
My mind grows dark.
“Does he look like Gus?” the voice continues.
I fade to black