Anarvin’s Point of View
I ran through the woods, branches tearing at me. Twigs snagged my hair and branches knocked the air out of my stomach. I could still hear their rough voices laughing and jeering behind me. A dry sob racked my body as I ran. My cheeks were wet with tears. I knew that there was no hope. Those Orcs were specially bred for hunt and capture. They were Sauron’s finest. A sad laugh escaped me. Hah. I should know. Then I gritted my teeth. That was what Sauron wanted me to think. One thing I had learned, if I had learned anything at all, was that there was ALWAYS hope, no matter what happens.
That was when I tripped. My feet flew out from under me. I flew through the air. I slammed into something hard. All the breath was knocked out of me. Darkness seeped into the edges of my vision. I was doubled over, gasping for breath. I staggered up. But it was too late. They were here. The Orcs burst out of the trees, their jaws slavering. The lead Orc grabbed me roughly. A single tear flowed silently down my cheek and my shoulders slumped in defeat. A whip cracked harshly again my back. I just stood there, not making a sound, feeling nothing but despair as slowly, but surely, they beat me to death. My last thought, before darkness claimed me, was that I would probably never wake up again.