From Where I Stand

From where I stand, you can see nothing. It is pitch black. All you can hear is the occasional rustling of the leaves as a light breeze passes by; and the pounding of my heart. I climbed up this tree to hide from the rebels. They are coming for me, the escaped prisoner. Sleep evades me so I shall lie here and wait for daylight; my only sanctuary. It is better that I not sleep for if I made a single noise, they would find me. I am scared; but not to die. The are searching for me. They are coming.