Chapter 7 - The Ridge in Sight
On the eighth morning, the forest began to thin, revealing the towering, rocky silhouette of the Northern Ridge.
"We're close, Liam," Thomas whispered, his voice hoarse. "Just up that path. The safe zone is on the other side."
But as they reached the base of the ridge, they found their path blocked.
An enemy checkpoint had been established at the mouth of the mountain pass. Two sandbagged nests with heavy machine guns guarded the narrow trail, and several soldiers were patrolling the perimeter with dogs.
"There's no other way around," Thomas said, his mind racing through the haze of his fever. "The cliffs on either side are too steep to climb."
"What do we do, Thomas?" Liam asked, his eyes wide with fear as he heard the barking of the military dogs.
Thomas looked down at his rifle. One magazine. Six bullets.
He looked at Liam, then at the wooden horse in the boy's hand.
"Liam, listen to me very carefully," Thomas said, kneeling down so they were eye-to-eye. "I am going to make a diversion. When the soldiers run toward the forest, you run up that path. Don't look back. Keep running until you see the soldiers in the green uniforms. They will keep you safe."
"No!" Liam cried, tears streaming down his face. "I'm not leaving you, Thomas! We go together!"
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"We are going together, buddy," Thomas lied gently, wiping the boy's tears. "But I need you to be my scout. You have to clear the path first. Can you do that for me?"
Liam looked at the ridge, then at Thomas. He nodded slowly, his small fist clenching the wooden horse. "I can do it."
