Cameron ran across the open fields, his arms outstretched. The wind ruffled his dark brown curls, but there was nothing cold about the breeze. It enveloped Cameron with open arms, engulfing him in the spirit of life. His face showed the innocent, vulnerable features of a seven-year-old boy, not yet exposed to the mean things, only the good.

The field was large, stretching for miles in all directions. There were bushes, and an occasional tree scattered here and there. The grass was rich and green, long enough to pass Cameron’s ankles in length, and it too swayed in the wind. Cameron wasn’t to know it yet, but these fields were to be the grounds for an upcoming battle. If the boy were to know, his heart would wail, and his lips would cry out.