STOLEN AWAY - Prologue

The rain rushed through the forest canopy, falling in streams of ice-cold water that punctured the heavy air all around Toby. He had run as far as his spindly legs could carry him without giving out, and the thick damp tree trunk that was now supporting his weight felt like it may crumble beneath him at any moment.

Where are they? Why do they keep running after me?

Gasping air into his starved lungs, Toby had to remain alert to avoid losing his brief respite from their clutches. His head darted from left to right, seeing only foliage and the constant flow of rainwater in every direction. The forest was bathed in a deep lilac-blue tint as the sunlight gave way to another winter evening, and despite the thick storm clouds that continued to empty their contents over the land, every now and then a hint of early moonlight would occasionally pierce through a wisp of cloud to illuminate the world for a brief moment.

The continual patter of raindrops on the forest floor created a blanket of sound that made it difficult for Toby to hear anything else. Snaking his neck around the trunk of the tree that had been supporting him, he was relieved to find himself still isolated in the small clearing, and he felt his heartbeat begin to slow for the first time in countless hours.

You're still not out of the woods yet, his conscience sniggered inside his head. He smirked, but was also forced to concede that he would never be able to find a true escape until he had made it out of the thickest part of the forest that lay just beyond the small lake in the distance.

His muscles burned, but his legs remained stubbornly intent on lurching the rest of his body onwards. With each heavy step, his chest pounded as the breath left him in laboured bursts. He could sense that they were getting closer; the barks from the bloodhounds now jarring inside his head with alarming regularity.

Just a little further, Toby, he willed himself, finding the glint of the lake come into view through the thinning trees in front of him.

Grasping at the slick, moss-covered branches that lined his route to the body of water ahead, his face was welcomed by the cooling screen of rainwater that washed over his skin. He had made it to the meeting point, and not a second too soon as he could now hear the sound of the guards' voices clearly shouting orders and directions between each other from the thick forest behind him

C'mon Michael, where the hell are you? Toby's eyes squinted into the distance, scanning all around the banks of the lake in the hope that his brother's figure would become apparent to him. After two full sweeps of the scene that spread out in front of him, Toby had all but lost hope when the shine of Michael's shaved head finally appeared from behind a rock at his two o'clock position. Even in today's dull early evening light, the glint from his brother's head was still like a beacon, and now that eye contact had been established, Michael put the next part of the plan into action.

Signalling to Toby to lie on the ground behind a similar rocky outcrop to his right, he rose to his feet and drew the weapon from his belt. Toby had never seen his brother with a gun before, and his heart started doing uncomfortable somersaults in his chest. Michael checked the magazine of bullets, before clicking them back into place and releasing the safety. Raising the gun high above his head, he barely flinched as he fired off two shots in quick succession into the stormy sky.

Toby gripped the rock, never taking his eyes away from his older brother. Strong and dependable; he was so thankful for him being here and rescuing him from the hell that he'd been dragged into, and even though they weren't home and dry just yet, he was safe in the knowledge that his years of combat training had served him well enough to know when a plan was going to work.

And this had to work.

In a wave of gasping and testosterone, the first of the guards burst from the trees and onto the banks of the lake where Toby had emerged just minutes before. He curled his torso into the tightest ball that he could manage, feeling his muscles cramp a little but biting his lip to avoid making a sound.