A Running Rebellion

At first, his pace was slow and measured. A woven layer of roots, rocks, and rotting leaves, flowed past his gaze, reminding of the 20, forever corrupted. He searched the horizon, and found the setting sun. His eyes, wet with forming tears, glinted with every movement. His entire frame cried out to be used, so he bolted towards the light, dodging trees, and jumping boulders. He screamed. His arms danced to maintain pristine balance. Every ounce of energy was exhaled into into the world, out of every arm and leg and lung, travelling far and wide into the world unseen.