I couldn’t get the image out of my head, bare feet slapping against wet soil. Eyes sharp, wild, but not afraid. 

I adjusted my body camera. A quiet click echoed. The boy flinched, then vanished between the trees, leaving only the echo of his breath. 

I didn’t mean to frighten him, but maybe that’s what ignorance does. It makes us scare what we don’t understand.

For a few seconds, I stood still, pulse hammering.

Even after we regrouped, my pulse wouldn’t slow. The forest still hummed in my ears. Every sound felt too close, too alive. 

A hand landed on my shoulder, firm, not harsh. 

“Rayan,” Instructor Tirpitz said. “You okay?” 

He was one of the few I actually respected. He didn’t bark orders just to feel powerful. He explained things. Made us understand.

“Yeah,” I lied, turning towards him. “Good. You looked pale for a second there.” 

He glanced at the trees. “We’re wrapping up. Nothing unusual was found, at least not officially.” He smiled at that last part, the kind of smile meant to keep us grounded, and motioned me toward the transport. 

Engines roared to life, cutting through the forest hush. And just like that, the treeline faded. 

The city took its place. Brick, steel, and order. 

Inside the patrol hub, the air buzzed with chatter. Steam rose from coffee flasks, boots squeaked on tile, and the big screen replayed clips from everyone’s body cams. 

Tirpitz stood near the operator. “Playback everything from Zone 3 to Zone 5. Increased speed.” The footage rolled, trees, mist, glints of rainlight, the occasional wolf silhouette. 

I stood in the back, quiet, my hand in my pocket. My thumb pressed against a small data chip, the twelve seconds I’d erased. 

They played right over the missing piece. Just a flicker, a tiny glitch. Nobody noticed. “Nothing unusual,” Tirpitz confirmed. “Weather interference, probably. You’re all dismissed.” 

The others relaxed. Someone laughed, someone complained about the mud. I slipped out before they finished talking. The chip was still in my pocket, warm against my skin. 

That night, the house was still. My eldest brother had crashed early after training; the younger was still at the machinery and science club. Mom was asleep. 

I could hear the faint hum of her humidifier through the wall. My brother built it for her.

I sat by the window, lights from the street painting thin orange bars across my desk. Patrol reports, crumpled notes, an empty mug. The kind of mess that confirms you’re at home. 

I turned the data chip between my fingers. I thought to myself; Why did I do it?

Maybe instinct. Maybe guilt. I just didn’t want him hunted. That boy,  whatever he was,  didn’t deserve to have men with rifles and scanners chasing him through the woods. I know I wouldn't want a tribe chasing me from my home.

I remembered his eyes again. They looked confused and pleading. Like he’d never seen men like us before. He’d been chasing a deer. Did he plan to eat it raw? The thought made my stomach tighten. What would that even taste like? Did he live alone? Did he even have a name? A family? 

The more I thought about it, the less it felt like wonder, and the more it felt like envy. He didn’t wake up to bells, rules, ranks. He didn’t salute anyone. He didn’t fill out patrol logs or wait for permission to move.

He was free. And that was a feeling that I’ve yearned for so long. 

Tomorrow, I decided. I wouldn’t go to school. Not even the compulsory session. Yesterday I’d convinced myself to show up for duty. Tomorrow I’d convince myself of something much more important to me.

The forest was waiting. And this time, I wanted to go alone.