Tracks - Prologue?

The boy’s feet hurt.  He’d been walking for a long while.  He looked down and saw that his knees were still raw and bloody from the fall he’d had earlier.  The fence had been high.  He wasn’t sure if he was going to make it over alive.  His brown shorts were frayed at the ends, old and worn in.  They’d been worn by at least one other person previously, he was sure.  His red shirt was dirty with stains and age as well.  A black number was sewn poorly into the front.  His face was round and small, his cheeks sunken in.  He hadn’t eaten well before, and he wasn’t eating any better now that he was alone.  His shoulder-length brown hair was matted to his face with sweat.  It was hot today, no breeze.  The boy carried with him a small drawstring bag.  He didn’t have much, but this bag was his lifeline.  It carried what food he had, and a bottle for water.

Under his feet, the railroad tracks went on forever.  He had followed them for a few days now, hoping they would lead somewhere.  They were lined with trees on either side, in which he would sleep at night.  He was an excellent climber, so he figured he would put that to good use.  A tree was a great place to hide out from unknown creatures and people.  He avoided other people, because he wasn't sure who was friend and who was foe.  He didn't want to end up in the wrong hands. 

It was getting late, and he was parched, his throat stinging like it had been attacked by a swarm of bees.  The boy stopped to take stock of his surroundings.  Just more trees, more track.  His eyes landed on a tree he thought would suit him for the night.  It was on the edge, he was too nervous to go too deeply into the forest; too many unknowns in there.  He crouched by his chosen tree, and untied his small bag.  He tied the end of one of the strings on the bag to a belt loop in his shorts.  This freed up his hands as he climbed to the top of the tree.  He found two suitable branches close to the ground and began his ascent.  His eyes moved swiftly, spotting the safest branches on which to place his weight as he made his way up.  He paused half way up to make sure his bag was still tied securely, and continued.  Finally, he reached the top, and sat back against the trunk of the tree, his legs stretched out on the branch before him. 

He realized now just how exhausted he was.  His legs ached, and his heart beat rapidly.  He pulled the bag up to his lap and reached in for the bottle of water.  He filled it whenever he got a chance while he walked.  He only had half the bottle left since he’d filled it the day before.  He definitely needed to get more water tomorrow.  The cap was unscrewed, and he put the mouth of the bottle to his dry lips and took three small gulps.  Even this small amount was blissful.  He licked his lips, savoring the cool, wet liquid running down his burning throat. He took out the bag of bread, and nibbled on a piece.  He had to make this last as long as possible.  He had no idea if he was capable of catching an animal, or picking a safe plant to eat.  This bread was all he had.  He swallowed his one bite and tucked it and the water bottle back into the bag.  He then took from the bag an old, ratty t-shirt that was a light blue.  It had more holes than the one he was wearing, but it had another set number sewn into it, similar to his own. He balled it up and placed it behind his head.  He took a deep breath and tried to relax. 

He knew he couldn’t fall asleep: he might fall out of the tree, but it felt good to rest anyway.  Throughout his journey, he hadn’t allowed himself to think about what he’d left behind.  He knew he had to focus on the road ahead.  Thinking about his short life so far would get him nowhere.  No crying about his cozy pallet where he would lay his head at night; no getting misty-eyed at the thought of the farm on which he had grown up.  No, he had to let that go now; he had done the unthinkable: left it behind.  With good reason, he knew, but he could never go back.  The moment he had set foot on the soil on the opposite side of the tall black fence, he knew there was no going back. 

Author's Note

So...?
I know it's hard to review a short bit like this, and it's a very, very rough draft. Any tips or criticisms are welcome!!!