Imprisoned

Ablaze

We woke to stiff joints and stale air. It made us feel tired and old, like we had gone through some kind of a time warp. But the air. It was like it came from an old can, left over from the 60's. It was like the last but of breath left in a SCUBA tank, all fumes and no oxygen. Louis and I groaned simultaeously, disappointed at the circumstances, but too lazy to do anything about it. We just lay there, tangled with eachother, and breathe in that sorry excuse for air.

But that was before we realized it.

Only when our bleary eyes cleared themselves, and when our limbs seemed to work, and our brain functioned normally did we notice. There was a crackle, there was a pop, there was a long hissssssssss. And we screamed.

The forest behind us was ablaze, a wall of orange flame licking the highest branches and the lowest roots. It gave off immense heat, burning and charring all in its path. It tore through dry brush and fallen limbs like a wild beast, leaving nothing but scraps. It raced towards us and we scrambled to our feet.

The harsh light made our eyes squint as we tripped and stumbled our way around the clearing, grabbing what supplies we could. But no words were spoken.

Louis and I ran like our lives depended on it, because they did. Past burning bushes, over a log, under low hanging branches. Our faces were scraped by the fingers of oaks and our legs whipped by thorny limbs. The gnarled toes of trees older than Anchorage got in our way, causing us to lose footing. 

Nothing we did got us far enough away from that wall of flame. It sneered at us in white-hot glory, chasing us. The pursuit was short lived, however.

Our sore limbs and stiff joint did not have to hold out as long as we had thought. Just when the fire begen to crawl its way toward our heels, just when the ankles of our pants began to burn, we fell.

Louis rolled, and I tumbled. Louis tumbled and I rolled. Down a hill, cresting a grassy glade. Nothing could be done to stop the descent. Louis reached for my hand, our fingertips brushing with a fire hotter than the one behind us, before we wre once again torn apart. The bumps and grooves sent us spinning in different directions until at last we both were thrown into a creek. It saved us from the flame, exinguishing the blaze at once, but it did drown our supplies. 

Louis turned to me, his hair plastered against his face, and laughed. It was a laugh of relief, of life, one that celebrated simply being there. I joined him and together we laughed at the fact that we were alive. We were alive. It was almost unbelievable. Almost.

"That was close,"

Louis chuckled.

"I thought we were goners for sure."

I smiled nervously, still a bit shaken up.

"It was so scary, though. One minute we were asleep and the next minute we were running for our lives!"

Louis' eyes softened and he waded over to me. It was clear theat he could see my discomfort. Louis just brushed my wet hair behind my ears, gently touching my cheek and leaned in,

"As long as you're with me, I swear you'll be fine. I swear."

My frown quickly turned into a smile that I could not seem to get rid of. Even when we stomped through the woods in wet socks and shoes, even when we were bitten to pieces by mosquitos, and even when Louis tripped me into a pile of mud. I just kept on smiling, because having Louis by my side was so much more important than anything else.

As we continued through the forest, the trees began to thin. They were no longer a part of the background, large and overbearing, but they stood like cattails, thin and wispy. If there were a gust of wind they would have been blown far, far, away.

Louis looked around us in awe, every few minutes pointing somethign out with a boyish grin on his face.

"Look at that owl, Eliza! Look!"

"Its a baby bunny!"

"How do so many trees get in one place?!"

His puerile curiosity was contagious and soon we found ourselves pointing out the stupidest things to eachother.

"Louis, check out that leaf!'

I giggled as he turned circles and searched high and low for that one leaf I was pointing to. After all, we were walking across thousands, if not millions of them.

When our hands grew tired from gesturing things, an our tongues were swollen from using too many demonstrative pronouns, we reached the end. The bed of slippery leaves was traded in for a road of hard packed dirt. The dappled sunlight turned to harsh rays, unfiltered by branches and limbs. The bussing mosquitos made way for the rumbling of distant cars. 

Louis and I may have reached the end of the forest, but it was just barely the beginning of our adventures.