Bare feet fleeted across the undergrowth of the woods, catching on twigs and bramble. "Two-seven-five-four-two-one-two", as he had been designated was running, for life, hypothetically. Dressed in only a robe that resembled something of a hospital robe, the boy couldn't have been any older than fifteen. Close behind him came the sounds of barking dogs and gruff, male voices shouting, the rotors of a helicopter, its spotlight shining through the thick foliage of the trees. The boys bergin (rucksack) bounced off his back with every rushed step, loosely slung over one shoulder. He had packed everything he could before making a break for it.

The boy knew this area from a map he had seen of the area and he knew he was running out of ground he could cover before he'd be stuck by a raging river. About to be closed in on by highly trained covert troops, attack dogs and an attack helicopter, the boy had to make a choice. Focusing on the noises of his surroundings rather than his pursuers he heard the rushing of water, the river was right ahead. Gulping, he picked up speed and jumped, flailing his arms at his sides and running through the air for a brief moment before hitting the water and going under.

Dogs barked, viciously, saliva flying from their mouths as they stood at alert lurching forward by the side of the river. The men approached next, dressed in all black armed with assault vests and tranquilizer rifles, as well as all sorts of tazers and other gear. One male that stood out from the others, much older but still holding a military-bearing build approached and looked down at the water, puffing a cigar. The others had been there for about twenty minutes waiting for this man to arrive. The older man spat on the floor and snarled in disappointment before turning and walking off, presumably back to the trucks. "Let's move out!" Yelled one of the soldiers, the dogs who had been relatively calm up until this point began barking again as the men began to follow the riverside.

[center][b][i]|Within the next hour later|[/i][/b][/center]

"Two-seven-five-four-two-one-two" had emerged from the river about fifteen minutes earlier, having pulled himself out of the raging current using a sturdy branch that protruded from the banks. In the currents he had lost his robe and so emerged completely naked, thankfully he had managed to keep his bergin close to him and had even used it to float. He imagined the clothes he had inside the backpack were as soaked through as the backpack itself. He thought about how crazy it seemed now that these military issue bergins were not waterproof. He decided to walk for a few minutes, coming to a stop by some heavily leafed trees. He placed the backpack down, and began to change, pulling on underwear first followed by black combat trousers, he pulled a olive green t-shirt over his top followed by a black jumper with padded shoulders, spec-op issue. He decided against socks which were drenched and would do his feet no good, instead he pulled on his black combat boots, pulling the hem around the cuffs of his trousers so they were tucked into the boots.

Finally, he pulled a black jacket over himself and zipped it up, quietly, as high as the zip would go, the rim of the neck on the jacket coming up to just below the boy's chin. He placed the rucksack down and began to cover it with sticks, leaves and all sorts of undergrowth, causing a rustling sound. The boy would have preferred to stay quiet but at least this may in some way keep them off his trail for a bit longer, unaware that he had already lost them.