The heavy clouds moved rapidly across a dark and threatening sky. The darkness of the chilling night was shortly punctured by rays of moonlight. The trees cast terrifying shadows across the shimmering snow. The clouds slowly started to ease their weight and the snowflakes that started to fall were caught by the screaming/weeping winds and danced a wild dance between the tall trees. .
An unclear shape struggled through the furious winds, assaulted on all sides by the biting cold. The shape is a man. His expression is lifeless. His clothes are camouflaged so you could barely make out his contours/shape. He is supporting him self against a heavy limb. He is a dead man. He is the reason the forest is alive at night. They know about his escape He knows that, he also knows that if he does not outrun them, they will kill him. .
A will to survive urged his undernourished body to continue. Muscles scream in vain as one foot is placed before the other. One step at a time the man struggle to escape a fate he can not. He knows that, but an inner voice drives him beyond the limits of his body. Still there is some hope flickering within the beaten shell of what was once a strong and brutal soldier. He could not recall when or where they had captured/seized him, but he knew they were not able to make him talk .
Suddenly the screaming/weeping winds where joined by another sound. They had released the dogs. There was not much time left before the dogs would catch up with him. His path was easily followed in the untouched snow. The soldier stops abruptly, his fist/grip hardens around the limb, he raises his head, both longing for and fearing the conformation of his failure. .
