Her foot snagged on a root, and she fell on her knees. She bit her lip. She brought herself to her feet and sped on. Her long skirt was ripping on the merciless thorns and branches. The forest, however, was soon ending. The skirts of the looming boughs were opening and the cold moonlight was beginning to shine ever more brilliantly. On a night months hence, the girl might have welcomed the light but now it was a peering eye, a lantern pulling apart secrecies of safety.       She came panting to the last tree. She laid her hand on the old pine’s surface. It was prickly, but it was the last shelter for two miles. Her glance pierced the empty field before her. Bare to the moon’s silvery glance and glassy with snow, the field was an unwelcome sight. Her only hope was the looming clouds from the north heavy with snow.      Taking a parting glance to the friendly pine, she dashed forward. Her pace was slowly slackening. The snow in the field was deeper than that of the forest, and it made her wearier. Her feet were dragging under the weight of the heavy snow. She gave a hasty glance behind her, looking for her pursuers. The woods showed no movement.     She hurried on. She fell twice with weariness, and she was getting colder and colder. Her face was numb and the wind’s searching fingers were ripping underneath her thin gloves.     The two miles were almost ended. Her refuge of the next forest lay before her.  Suddenly, she stopped for a shot was fired.     “Jesus, help me,” she uttered softly and ran on. The voices of numerous men were heard. She was running for her life,, and her heart was beating wildly. Her ankles were icy and numb and there seemed no warmth or strength left in her. The men were shouting.  She heard not the words, nor cared to hear them. They would soon be on her.  “Their legs are much longer and quicker than mine,” she thought.     A tree loomed in front of her, stretching its long branches as arms to receive her. She passed into the forest. She was starting to tremble as she ran, and her teeth were starting to chatter. Grasping at her jacket, she tugged it fiercely round her. She could see shadows now; not shadows from the moon’s light but shadows from the lanterns they carried. Biting her lip and drawing her hood across her face, she kept running. They would know her face by now, she thought, and that would give away everything she and her family depended on: false identity.       The moon was shaded by the clouds now. Slowly the snow flakes started to fall, tickling her face with lovely kisses. She did not mind the snow, rather, she rejoiced in it. The men pursuing her could not be a hundred feet behind her. Her legs were giving way and her breath was coming in gasps. She was shaking violently.       “God, protect me!” she cried inside herself with agony and kept running. The pounding of heavy boots could now be heard, and she could hear the breathing of ten men or more. She ran with furious speed when a ditch opened up before her. She tried to stop herself, but her foot slipped on ice and she fell, rolling down the ravine and landing in a thicket of pine bushes with the snow falling in a small avalanche behind her. When she finally lay still, she fainted. Her head rested on a soft fir branch.