• I crept along the short hallway, careful that my feet made no sound. I clutched my teddy bear tightly in my left hand, his fur ratty and dirty. I felt along the wall with my right hand. Mommy and daddy's voices sounded through the corridor. They were arguing. And it scared me.

    "We must go, John! You must know this!" mom exclaimed. Her voice was cracked and hoarse. It sounded almost as if she'd been crying.

    "I am not willing to risk it! Seven years is a long time, Bridget. And what do we get? A trip to an unknown land. We have what we need here. I don't want to give up everything." Dad's voice had no warmth. I did not know what they were talking about, but the tone of their voices stirred a feeling in my gut that told me daddy's decision would decide the fate of our entire family.

    "You will have to eventually." Mom's voice was icy. "They will come for us soon. It is inevitable. It cannot be avoided. If we are to go, if we are to survive, we must go now."

    I had reached the end of the hall. I carefully peeked my little head around the corner, holding my soft brown locks in my hand to slim the chance of being caught. My searching solid pale yellow eyes rested on mom's hard frown, her pale lips trembling almost as much as mine, a soft red. My gaze fluttered across the room to dad, lingering there, and not liking the cold stare I saw.

    A clock chimed in the distance. "They are coming. There is no time left. We must go! Think of Ashlyn." I shivered as I heard mom speak my name. "Do you remember the winter night so long ago? Do you remember the old man's prophecy? You saw the omen, John, I know you did. You cannot deny that our child's future is too important, are you willing to risk it? I don't think so. We must go now. It is either leave this wretched planet, or suffer. Choose." These words shocked me. Omen? Prophecy? That sounded more like something from a book or a dream. There was too real to be a book and to much pain to be a dream.

    The clock was still chiming. Bing! Bing! Six...Seven...Dad's face tightened, stress lines digging into his once-smooth face. Mommy's words had hit home. Eight...Nine... We were running out of time.

    Dad gave a sigh of surrender. "We must leave at once." I turned and hurried down the hallway and scurried into my bed, pulling the sheets up to my chin. Dad walked into my room. Without even acknowledging me, trembling in bed, he walked over to my drawer. He pulled out five of my favorite outfits, plus three more. "Wake up." I sat up. "Get dressed. Grab only your most favored possessions." He grabbed the blanket my grandma knitted for me and packed that too. Then he left. I did what I was told.

    I walked over to my closet. I pulled out my sweat pants and pulled a t-shirt on over my head. I grabbed my favorite shoes and slipped them on, hitting my toes in my nervous state. I picked up my favorite backpack, a brown one with four green stripes, then walked around my room gathering items and shoving them in: my hairbrush, a small block of glass with a carving in the middle still in the bubble wrap and box, my small photo album, my teddy bear, my favorite book, a flashlight that you shook to recharge, my secret wooden box full of little treasures, two pencils, an eraser, and my sky blue journal. I zipped it up, rushing over to my dresser, grabbing the necklace given to me by mom, fastening it around my neck, fingering the small blues stone that seemed to glow. Set into the sapphire was a dark opal carving of the moon. The pendant hung on a brown cord that tied into a knot at the back of my neck.

    Dad was now standing in the doorway, a look of regret plastered on his slightly tan face. I trusted this man. I trusted him to get us where we were going. He beckoned me to follow. I was suddenly afraid. I hadn't realized it, but there were tears streaming down my face. It was strange. We were leaving all I had known for the past twelve years for a cause unknown to me. And yet I didn't ask questions. I just followed. I followed dad out to the front of our little house, meeting mom. They had already hung our small load of luggage, except for the pack on my back, on the sides of our wolves (similar to the Himalayan, but twice the size). We climbed onto them. I stroked mine, Krisha, comforted by her familiar soft fur. And soon we were off to a place unknown.

    I took one glance back to our little house we had just abandoned. I knew what we had lost, but I knew that soon there would be more to gain. And for some reason, strangely out of place, I smiled.

    We did not know that no later than five minutes after we left, they came. They tore apart out house, looking for us, but we were no where to be found. They were enraged. But we were long gone, on a journey of suffering, paving the road for a new life.