A chill ran down George’s spine. He trembled at the thought of leaving his safe-haven. He chanced a glance through the trees thick leaves but did not manage to see anything other then hazy, unfocused shadows. George whisked back towards the tree’s trunk, his heart beating quickly. Roaring booms signaled the presence of the enemy. He knew that a decision had to be made but did not like his options at all. The first more preferable option was to stay here, by the tree, safe and hidden from the danger outside. George knew that this option would be a coward’s way out and did not fancy the thought of retelling a tale in which he had cowered from harms way. The second, most terrifying option was to leave the safety of his tree and head straight into the line of fire. George braced himself to leave the tree and then a nagging thought occurred to him; what about his family who were waiting back at home for his safe return? What would they prefer, for him to be courageous or for him to be alive? George shrank back to the tree trunk, his hands clenched so tightly that his nails made marks in his skin. He wished he had some form of defence but he did not and George was painfully aware of it.

Shivers run up and down his back making him shudder and wind began to whip at his already frozen legs, like it was trying to push him away from the tree. George felt the weight of his decision pressing down on him, he knew that he didn’t want to make his family upset and could therefore not take the second option but he also knew equally well that he could not stay here and cower for much longer, the enemy was encroaching and quickly. Perhaps, George thought clinging to any faint glimmer of hope, the enemy would back off and leave him there unnoticed and safe but he knew that it would be madness to depend on this. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back on the trees rough trunk suddenly feeling like a small fish in a big pond. Seconds trickled past; George could feel the strain of carrying such a tough choice upon his scrawny shoulders.

A loud, terrorizing howl swept through the tree’s armour of leaves making George jump and pressing his decision on him. The howls began to creep closer and grew more violent with every inch. George felt his train of thought run off its rails and thoughts began to swim past unsystematically. Panic set in. His whole body began to shake. The tree appeared to be feeling the same sensation as George and began to swing like a pendulum; George felt sorry that it was rooted to the ground and could not escape the adversary as easily as he could. The noise became unbearable, the wind bellowed and the tree’s roots were creaking. George came to a decision. He summoned the diminutive amount of courage his body possessed and ducking under the trees armour, George ran.

Pellets flew at him instantaneously; violently attacking his arms and making him wish that he had escaped when his foe had been further away. George could hear his feet thumping against the ground with every step; he put his head down and sped up. His lungs would surely burst if he did not stop running soon but he knew that he couldn’t stop yet; the enemy was still attacking with full force. George glimpsed his tree waving to him in the distance; he waved back still darting through the enemy’s fire. Wind blew into his eyes making them burn not that he would be able to see much through the blur surrounding him. Finally the outline of a building, George felt the terror that had enclosed his heart only seconds before disappear. He dashed up the stairs leading to a large wooden door, arms, lungs and legs numb. Two knocks later the door creaked open.

“George!” A tall woman with dark hair exclaimed. “Didn’t I tell you to bring an umbrella this morning?!”

“Yes, mum…” George said defeated while being shoveled inside the house making the floor sopping wet. Lightening and thunder crashed triumphantly, a chill ran up George’s spine, he sneezed. The weather had won, again.