thrust into

The forest was on fire. His heart was thumping. Hur was not afraid of death. Maybe as some human instinct programmed into him for survival. But until recently, he had welcomed it. Maybe not exactly that, but to some degree, he hadn’t minded it. He was afraid of his death. He was afraid of hers. The night was dark. His watch told a different story. It was six in the morning. It should have been light an hour and a half ago. They were trudging through the forest, trying to find the way out. She was ahead of him, her arms bruised and bloody. It seemed as if the branches and twigs of the forest were trying to scratch her, were going out of their way to scratch her.

Ahead of him, she was thinking furiously. What had gone wrong. The forests had always protected her. One time they had failed. And even then, they had led her out. When he had been there. It was the same aura. Her back had been turned to him, but the energy, she realized, was the same. His energy. Was he the problem? No. She trusted her gut. And it was telling him that he was the one. He was the only one. The one that could help her with this task that she had been thrust into.