Fugitives: Chapter 8

Hide by day, run by night. That became our motto that we lived by. There was nineteen runaways in our party, including Elijah, Kielle, and I. We would avoid going by the towns, and lived off the land, hunting with the art of archery, and collecting edible plants.

    Trasean, while watching a runaway called Raskella fish, tried to copy the movements with his hands, but fell in. By the time Razel had gotten there (Raskella couldn't swim, while Razel could), however, it was too late.

    He was still alive when Elijah arrived on the scene. I wish that Trasean's last moments of life had been like a fairy tale, where he was cured of his insanity enough to recognize his favorite brother crouching beside him, and embrace him and tell him that he loves him before he dies.

    What really happened was that while Elijah was trying to talk to him, Trasean thrashed around, his screams cut off by the water in his system, and his thrashers soon grew weaker, and he stopped moving. Without looking or saying anything to his younger brother.

    Elijah stumbled along in a daze after that. He hardly knew what he was eating, who he was talking to, or what he was doing. When I talked to Razel about it, he just told me to wait it out, to be patient with him, and he will come around.

    I was beginning to see the hierarchy in this group. Zeric and Razel were the leaders. Zeric was more of the leader, where he dealt with where we were going, how we were going to get there, etc. Razel worked with the people.

    Kielle has trusted me enough to give me the Histories for safekeeping. I had seriously taken this duty with great honor. I kept it with me in my satchel that Razel had given me, and I carried that satchel around with me wherever I went.

    We turned to a beaten path, one that had been used by countless slave fugitives over the years. We met up with other runaways, and our numbers soon swelled. We never encountered any other people other than fugitives, until one day.