The wind whistles through the trees, a haunting melody the forest had sung since the beginning. Above me, owls hooted, their low calls echoing back and forth in the dead forest.

The path I followed was tricky at best, deadly at worst. Small, winding, at times completely disappearing into brush only to reemerge some hundred yards away, it was a tedious and frustrating journey.

The guard prodded my back with the end of his rifle, urging me forward. First, in case anything emerged from the brush, hungry or feral.

Ultimately though, I knew to count my blessings while I was along this path, for what awaited me at the end would be infinitely worse.

After another several brutal miles of hiking that was more akin to rock scrambling, my captor barked the order to make camp. Wearily, I set up his tent, and my own, much more raggedy, lean to.

No fire was allowed, in case it attracted anything..unsavory. The guard had his rifle, and a short dagger strapped to his thigh, but nothing that would do much damage to any large game. I had nothing to defend myself, but wits and bare hands.

Curling up beneath a threadbare rag, I shut my eyes and attempted to block out the noise of the whistling wind, the odd creaking branches, shivering every time I thought I caught the sound of some animal. It was many hours before I finally fell into a fitful sleep.