My legs begin to strengthen as does my will. My pack and belongings having been strewn about, hide my weapon from my eyes. A stout log lays near my side and it is quickly within my grasp. Though I tremble within, I do not taste the fear I would have imagined when I began this adventure. Be it only a few weeks, I have begun to rely on myself and face those shadows that fade within the light of day. I shall not run. I shall fight. The log I raise with which to do battle shall be my sword. It shall be my rod.
The sound of footsteps echo from the dark place where my captors have taken refuge from the light, the screams of death and torment now silent. My savior has surely not suppressed them all. They are too many. He has likely fallen and I shall face their retribution as a result. A stampede erupts as a black creature scampers from cover. His eyes are wide as if death hunts his soul, should such creatures be in possession of one. He bores down on me, and I ready my rod. Vengeance shall be mine.
As I ready my thrust, my enemy falls to the dirt, his weight flushing out the leaves that litter the ground. My eyes are wide, my heart a symphony of percussion. I am dumbstruck as I see this lifeless corpse face-down in the muck. My lungs exhale violently as the threat is taken from me. Another shuffle grabs my attention and I look up to see my savior strutting from the dark hole, a smile washed across his face as wide as the Orange River.
"Hello." His voice booms across the clearing, no filter to mask his presence.
My mood brightens as I see who walks before me. It shall be a good day, today.