The water is dangerously cold, but you continue onwards into the river. Your child squeals at the sudden change in temperature, but you don’t flinch. The river masks your baby’s noises as you swim. Those years enjoying the cool torrents proved life-saving. You are now on the other side of the river.
On the other side of the riverbank, you check on your child. You take your jacket and dry him off, rewrapping him in dry scrapes of cloth. You begin to rub him, creating friction.
Time passes by — too much time.
You begin to despair, looking into your child’s face — a mixture of your partner’s nose, chin, and ears. All of a sudden, his eyes open, revealing you — your eyes. They sparkle a miraculous blue. Relief rushes over you.
You think to before this horrifying night — the happiness present in the village, the joy of starting a new chapter with him and our child. He was taken from you — to become a soldier and protect the land from imminent war. Where was he now
?
Was he dead?
The thought of it kills you inside.The night turns to daylight as you make your way north — towards safety. The mass-slaughter claimed countless lives, but there is still hope.