The Great Exile

The Escort

Tommy winced over the abrupt excess weight applied onto his right shoulder. A firm, assertive grip taking hold of him. The world was spinning, faster than usual. His vision was clouded, everything at a slight angle, yet the silhouette of what he thought was his friend was somehow clear as day. Ominous thoughts crept the outskirts of Tommy's mind.
𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘺 𝘮𝘦? 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘺 𝘓'𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘨?
He was flooded with rage and all kinds of suffering, but he refused to cry. He'd already been deemed a fool in front of his own country and all his comrades. A slight whimper crawled out and onto the edge of his puffed, iced lips. He couldn't locate the energy to allow his corrupted mind speak, so he was left, perishing in emotions, with nothing but a single tear that managed to trickle down his scarred cheek before making its way towards his neck and crashing into the soil beneath him. His head drooped as he found himself gazing at the grass below him. A place he had once settled and watched the sun gleam and glow until it gradually faded into the horizon as a slightly smaller boy would eventually slump down next to him, his fists clenching into the Earth. Soft, delicate breaths would echo into the atmosphere, as the small boy would gently lean his head, covered in scuffed golden brown hair, onto Tommy's shoulder. The same shoulder now being grasped by a masked man, who was now picking up his stride, practically dragging the crumbling boy behind him. Tommy's vivid flashbacks came to a halt, as did his escort. A distant hum diffused into the air, soon reaching their ears. For a moment, the man loomed over him flashed a look of concern toward Tommy. His dirty blonde hair slipping over his mask where Tommy managed to catch a glimpse of the hooded man's eyes. His stern look struck Tommy, a surge of cold air ricocheted his fable skin, sending a shudder down his torso. The boy gulped, hastily fixating his attention on the murmur he, and supposedly the masked man, heard. The grip on Tommy's shoulder slightly loosened.
"𝘚𝘵𝘢𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦. 𝘔𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘥. 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘢 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘦."
The husk whisper echoed in Tommy's head as the man slowly began to edge closer to where the hum occurred. Just as he landed another foot into the mud a muffled crunch infiltrated the air shortly followed by a radiant outline of a man emerging from the forest. Ghostbur.