The opened boot stomped heavily on the piled dead leaves, stopped, then hesitated to retract, making a soft rustling sound. In the dimness, it was as if a silent beast lurked, a tattered cloak being pulled from the shadows, wrapping around the boy like a gray flag. He adjusted his broken spectacles and carefully turned his head back.
The heavy footsteps drew nearer, mingled with cursing and the barking of dogs, the clinking of iron chains, and the light from torches seemed to faintly penetrate the thick underbrush.
He instinctively hugged the sword in his hands tightly to his chest as if it were his only hope.
Indeed, that was the only hope.
Tears couldn't be stopped from rolling down, passing over the scraped cheeks, he opened his mouth wide, gasping for air, yet dared not make a sound.
It was already very close, just a little bit more—
A hand reached out from the darkness, somewhat pale and slender, extending in front of him.
The boy, as if seeing a vision, gazed up blankly.
