One boy. A single mission. A lone journey.
Thump, thump, thump. The sounds of Ben's footsteps echoed around the forest, breaking its tranquillity. Every so often, Ben would look at the North Star, which was guiding him home, to ascertain whether he was going in the right direction.
The chirping of the nocturnal birds comforted Ben, reminding him in his darkest of times that he was never alone.
Ben felt that he had been walking forever. The sharp pain in his ankles and feet had long turned into a dull ache. He constantly felt light-headed, after surviving on merger army rations that he had saved up from his time serving the army for many weeks.
There was not a part of him that did not feel sore. He had gained many bruises, cuts and blisters from his time in the army. Ben wore those battle scars like medals of honour as they deserved to be respected and revered.
His full head of luscious locks had since been tangled up so badly that no one could tell if it was hair or a bird's nest. Ben's head was caked with mud, sticks and leaves. It looked as if he had walked out from hell. What he had been through was not too dissimilar.
The tattered bag which he was carrying on his back held everything that he had - a water bottle, packs of rations, a set of extra clothes, flint and a compass which was his mother's last gift to him before he left willingly to fight the war to defend his country.
His shoes which were made out of rubber and were beginning to shred due to the heat of the unrelenting sun in the mornings.
Despite all this he had a grim determination to reach home and be reunited with his family again.
Suddenly, Ben's eyes widened.