He hummed the lyrics as he moved toward the reeds, repeating every word he remembered.
"Walk the path where the reeds grow high,
Where dragonflies and minnows lie.
Past the tree with the twisted back,
Follow the river, stay on track.
When water bends and stones run thin,
The shed will wait, just tucked within."
He stepped through the tall reeds, each movement a slow struggle as the damp mud sucked at his feet with every pace.
The soft earth soaked into his footwear, clinging to the soles and squelching between his toes until his entire foot felt slimy, chilled, and uncomfortably slick.
The reeds swayed and rustled around him, brushing against his legs like cold fingers as he forced himself forward, one mucky step at a time.
"Where dragonflies and minnows lie," he hummed the next line of the tune under his breath, low and steady, the melody keeping him company as he pushed deeper into the swaying reeds.
With both hands, he parted the stalks ahead, brushing aside the wet, whispering fronds that crowded his path.
The reeds leaned back with a gentle resistance, slick with moisture, while beneath his feet the damp soil gave way unevenly, forcing him to struggle forward with careful, dragging steps.
He struggled through the damp, uneven soil, each step a slow battle against the mud that clung stubbornly to his soles.
His eyes flicked often toward the riverside, scanning the glimmering surface for any flicker of movement, minnows darting beneath the shallows or the glint of dragonflies skimming just above the water.
That was where he needed to go next, and though the reeds made each step a chore, he kept pressing on, guided by the thought of that quiet, shifting bank just ahead.
"Maybe dragonflies don't stay around here anymore," he sighed, hoping within that he was wrong.
He glanced toward the far end of the reeds and caught a sudden flicker, something darting through the air just ahead. Without thinking, he pushed forward, quickening his pace in the hope that it was a dragonfly, that it might guide him to the place "where the minnows lie."
To his relief, it was a dragonfly, its wings catching the last silver threads of fading light as it hovered for a moment before zipping further along the riverside.
But his excitement dimmed almost as quickly as it came. He saw no others, no clusters dancing over the water, no ripples hinting at minnows below.
And by now, the sun had slipped fully beneath the horizon, leaving the wetland cloaked in deepening shadow.
Darkness had swallowed the path behind him, and ahead, only the pale wash of moonlight spilled quietly across the reeds and water, casting the world in still, silvery hues.
"I guess this is as far as I go," he sighed, and glanced toward the land away from the riverside.
He quietly pushed through the last of the reeds, their slender stalks parting with a soft rustle as he emerged onto a patch of dry, firmer ground.
The sudden shift beneath his feet felt like a small mercy. He stepped forward, dragging his soles across the coarse sand to scrape off the clinging mud, letting out a slow breath as he did.
With the worst of the grime gone, he made his way to a nearby tree and let his body sink against its rough trunk, muscles slackening.
The bark was cool against his back, the night air quiet save for the soft hum of insects and the distant murmur of water.
This was his first night away from home, and it was nothing like he had imagined. Not even close.
He had always pictured it happening years later—when he was older, stronger, proven. He thought he'd leave the stronghold flanked by comrades, maybe laughing over a fire as they traded stories and shared food, the air tense with the thrill of a mission but softened by camaraderie.
They'd be gathering intel, watching the enemy from the shadows, learning their patterns and waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
Not slipping through wetlands alone, with mud in his boots and the taste of shame still fresh at the back of his mind. Not having to leave everything behind without so much as a farewell.
He leaned his head back against the tree and stared up through the canopy, watching moonlight filter through the trembling leaves. It was cold, it was quiet, and worst of all, it was real.
"This is way too real. I wish I would wake up and be with my family again," he murmured, as the moonlight glittered on his pupils.
"Where do I even sleep for the night?" He glanced around, eyes adjusting to the hush of night.
Though the darkness hung thick over the land, the moonlight carved soft outlines into everything it touched.
He could still make out the gentle swaying of the reeds in the distance, their slender forms rising like ghosts from the water's edge.
From where he sat, they looked almost serene—far from the wet, clinging mess he'd just crawled through.
The landscape was quiet now, wrapped in silver and shadow, but the traces of his path were still there, etched faintly into the night.
"I guess I'll have to stay up, can't be distracted by sleep."
'Especially since I have no idea how many others might be out here, hiding just like I am. For all I know, someone could be watching me right now, waiting for a mistake.'
"I can't afford to get caught, being turned into a slave or something worse isn't exactly on my list of things to experience. I have to stay sharp… stay vigilant," he murmured to himself as he rolled his hands into a fist.
He stayed awake for as long as he could manage, though he had no real way of telling how much time had passed. The sun was long gone, leaving no shadows to track, and he didn't have a clock or anything on him to measure the hours.
All he could do was sit there, guessing, eyes straining in the dark as fatigue slowly crept in.
Slowly, his body began to betray him, limbs growing heavier, thoughts blurring at the edges, until, at last, his eyes slipped shut and he surrendered to sleep, unable to fight it any longer.