I am romping, happy to be free. I love being here, in the woods, by the creek, under the moon and stars! I love the crunching beneath my feet, the snap of twigs. I love the musky smell of the forest.
Being free, being with my friends, makes me feel alive. I finally feel fully alive, for the first time since Bill died.
We are running away, they say. I do not know exactly what this means, but for now, it feels good.
And that is why I try to ignore the smell of the smoke, of the fire, of the danger smoldering nearby.