Everything looked the same as I walked. It was like in those old movies, where the actor would be on a treadmill with the background looping behind him. I had to look behind me several times to make sure the meadow wasn’t still there, but I had long lost sight of it, so I was making some progress. I hoped.

The sun had dipped below the branches and was hiding amongst the thick tree trunks. Its light blinded me whenever it peeked through a wide enough gap between trees.

The only sound was my footsteps crunching the dirt beneath them. Then I heard it. The rushing of water.

People settled near water, right? That was definitely something I had read in a book. My brain struggled to make a connection to civilization through my weak reasoning.

I walked faster toward it, my mouth feeling like a desert in peak summer.

Then the voices rose above the rushing water.

I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but I didn’t care; it was people, it was rescue, it was rest.

And it was revenge.

I broke through the tree line, escaping their grasp.

My mouth hanging open to scream help to the faceless voices, when I saw him.

It was a small boy. He couldn’t have been more than 10 years old yet. His hands white knuckled as he clutched tightly to a rock jutting out from the river. The current furiously beat against his small frame. His head was barely above the water’s surface, and his mouth filled with water every time he tried to inhale. He wasn’t going to last long.

I looked at the raging water. It spilled over the banks as it slapped against the shoreline.

It was dangerous. Especially for a small boy, so why had he gotten near?

Across, on the other shore, were several other children who didn’t appear to be much older than him. They screamed and jumped as they watched their friend struggle. A few of them were running up the hill that rose behind the bank, but their short legs weren’t getting them anywhere quickly.

Then I saw it, the dropped buckets that lay empty by the children’s feet. They were collecting water.

Their attention momentarily shifted to me. I am pretty sure their screams grew louder. Even the small boy hanging on for dear life looked extra panicked to see me. I didn’t blame them. I was covered in blood, emerging from the woods like a bruja.

There was another rock jutting out of the water next to the boys, close to the shore I was standing on. If I could get to it, I would be able to get him out of the water so he wouldn’t drown.

I placed one foot in, gauging the strength and depth of the river floor. It pushed against my leg forcefully, the water cold, cutting to the bone.

If I moved fast, I could get to the rock and…my thoughts were cut off as shrill shrieks filled the air.

I glanced up, and the jutting rock was empty; the boy was gone.