It was easy to follow the men who had taken Sasha, because they made more noise than Auntie Gabby did when she emptied a bucket of empty water cans into one of the recycle bins behind the kitchen. They trampled on dead branches that snapped, creating a sharp sound that echoed across the forest. They stupidly banged their rifles against trees as they walked, and they talked with raised voices I could have heard from a half mile away, even with a brisk wind at my back.

 

I didn’t know why they had taken Sasha, although I had a suspicion, or where they were taking her. Her hands were tied behind her back, and she stumbled occasionally as she walked. Sometimes one the men would give her a little push, or a pat on her butt, sometimes adding a suggestive sexual threat. The words reminded me of when I was a boy hiding in one of the central heating vents at Eagles Retreat, listening to the evil men say those same kinds of things to the women they held hostage.