Throughout It All

28 | Hold On To What You Can | October 12, 1918

And this isn't even the only prison camp in Germany, or so they're told.

They just happen to be in the biggest one.

Whichever this one is, that is.

Jack, Kid Griffo, and Dave Simmons still don't know where they are. There's no way for them to contact anyone outside of this place, and no way for anyone from outside to contact them. 

And lately, Dave Simmons has gotten paler.

"I miss Sardinia," he murmurs.

Kid Griffo puts a hand on his shoulder. "Me too. We will see him again." He misses his half-brother. He also misses his lover, who he doesn't know if he'll ever see again. He just hopes that they're all okay.

As Kid Griffo comforts Dave, Jack surveys the prison camp, taking in everything inwards to the center of the camp, and outwards to the far edges. There are guards everywhere. And only one way to come in and out.

Here he is, trapped where there isn't a future. Just like he always feared would happen to him. Never in a million years did he think it would be here, but it is.

They have to get out of here. They can't die here. They have to see their loved ones again.

But from in here, everything seems impossible, and completely and utterly hopeless.

There really is just nothing they can do to change their situation.

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Race has been walking for literal miles for ... he doesn't know how many days. Is this the sixth time he's watched the sun rise? Or is it the seventh? It could be the eighth for all he knows.

He's had barely any food over those days, and even less water. He doesn't know how much longer he can make it.

While he has come across civilization every now and then, he prefers staying in the woods. It's safer that way.

But he is getting tired easier, and making less progress in what he hopes is the right direction to make it to Italy. And while it might be pointless to try and go to Italy, he just knows that he has to leave France. The thought of staying here is the only thing keeping him going. Well, that and the thought of seeing his brother again.

Still, it's night, and he has next to no energy to continue on.

His eyelids start drooping. He feels himself about to collapse. 

He stumbles over a rock, nearly sending him falling face first on the ground. Instead, he manages to put his hand on a tree in front of him, panting hard.

Suddenly, he hears a noise. It's the sound of a person walking through the woods.

Race stands up straight, heart pounding, pupils dilated, fully alert. It's been awhile since he's had any true feelings, but the instincts for fear and self preservation remain as strong as ever.

There's a person holding a lantern, wandering a little ways a way in the darkness.

Whether friend or foe, Race can't tell. He stays completely still, barely breathing, hoping that the person won't see him, hoping that whoever it is will go away.

But the person keeps walking, coming incredibly close to Race.

Race tries not to tremble. He wants to run, or duck, or something. But he also knows the human eye is attracted to motion, as most beings are. So if he moves, not only will he alert the person's sense of sound from all the ruckus it would make, it would also alert the person's sense of sight. Race can't afford to have that happen.