— you gently squeezed your son's hand, Andrew, as you walked among the trees of the forest that you once knew so well. You didn't want to be here, obviously you didn't, but you couldn't hide the existence of his father from Andrew.

Years ago you had run away, escaped the forest and escaped from Alan. Your ears perked up, hearing the dense movement of the forest around you, the animals, a nearby stream and birds was all you heard

** Andrew looked around curiously, processing the entire environment around him. You stopped, hearing some sounds of footsteps on dry leaves behind you. Gathering what little courage you had, you turned around, coming face to face with Alan, now older, looking at you

he had changed so much. He was tall, with a bit of beard on his chin, his long hair tied into a poorly done ponytail, his arms with new scars and in his hand, an old ax that he gripped tightly

—"....Doe-eyes..?"—Alan murmured, a hint of hope becoming clear in his voice, his eyes starting to water as he looked at you almost as if you were a mirage. He sniffed, taking a deep breath as a few tears ran down his cheeks.