The night quickly turned cold and the weather worsened. Shivering, you pulled the thin blanket around your body, trying to press yourself into the sparse warmth of the scratchy straw.

The Mongol camp was noisy. Hour after hour, soldiers walked past your tent, heavy footsteps and harsh words filled the air. It wasn't quiet for an hour.

Torches flickered with every blow of the wind. Rain pelted down on the tent, getting softer with every breath. The rope cut into your flesh as you tried to move. Tired, your eyes opened a crack to be greeted by the dim light of the torches.

"Smells like thunder...", you mumbled to yourself and wiped a strand of hair from your forehead.

Your fingers were trembling, dark in colour from the cold. As you tried to move your legs, you felt how frozen your feet were.

Sighing, you looked around in the darkness. Boxes piled up in front and behind you, so high that you were hidden in the shadows. There didn't seem to be any guards outside the tent.

This moment was almost too perfect.

If it hadn't been for the loud footsteps and shouts. It sounded as if the entire Mongol army had gathered on the beach.

So war was really close.

Exhaling deeply, you reach into the inside pocket of your clothes to pull out the hidden knife. The blade felt light and yet so heavy in your hand. It had been a long time since you had held a blade. Even if this wasn't a weapon that could save your life, it was enough for a start.

Holding your breath, you listened to the voices on the beach as you slowly began to cut the rope in an inconspicuous place. If you had to come back, it would be less noticeable that you had been free.

When the rope finally came loose, you breathed a sigh of relief. It felt like iron shackles were falling off you. A rush of adrenaline coursed through your veins.

Your legs immediately wanted to jump up and run away, but you stopped yourself and searched for your bag to fill it with all sorts of things that could be found in the tent. Apples were inside, followed by dried meat and wooden bottles that the Mongols used to transport water.

All of them were filled to the brim, so you hang three of them around your shoulders. Finally ready, you crawl to the back of the tent under the protection of the crates to lift up the lines.

Sand crunched under your fingers. The sea was not far away. A few boats were moored there. But it wouldn't have been wise to steal one, even in the dark you would be recognised.

And if there was one thing the Mongols could do, it was archery. Even at night, they were capable of killing their prey. And you had no intention of becoming this exact prey.

It had stopped raining but was still damp and windy. There was a good chance that it would start again soon. You would be able to cover your tracks with it.

Once again, you took a scrutinising look in your bag and went through everything, from food to all the medicines you had packed. The knife pressed coldly against your chest, hidden under the Mongol's waistcoat.

Everything had come together.

This moment was like no other. And the prospects were good. Very good. Doubt crawled up the back of your neck and slammed its claws into your flesh. It seemed too good. But maybe that was also a trick of your own mind to stop you from breaking out of the familiar and sticking to where you were, to the familiar.

But everything inside you screamed for freedom. A tingling sensation spread through your fingers. Your legs twitched.

And all at once you slipped under the tarpaulin of the tent into the open. Wind brushed through your (H/C) hair.

There was salt in the air. The waves were calm. Heartbeats echoed in your throat. Breath held burned in your lungs. The first few steps were hesitant, almost frightened.

But as soon as you glanced back over your shoulder, your legs began to move further and further away from the tent, slowly at first, then faster and faster.

Panting, you ran through the darkness, sand giving way under your shoes but you didn't let it stop you. Waves rushed in your ears, mingling with a ringing and distant scream.

A smile grew on your lips.

Suddenly the night was lit up by a sheet of fire. Heat exploded but you didn't raise your eyes, didn't stop. The beach became thinner and a cliff came closer and closer. A little further and you wouldn't be seen climbing up. As soon as you'd reach the top, you were free.

Screams reached your ears. Your head jerked, wanting to look back, but you refused. Instead, you ran. You ran as fast as you could, as far as your legs would carry you. Stale air burned in your lungs.

Only when you felt rough stone under your fingers and waves lapping against your ankles did you stop.

The Mongol camp suddenly seemed so far away, worlds away. Flames had engulfed the tent where you had been lying just a few moments ago.

The tents were burning so brightly that they reached as far as the moon. At least that's how it looked. Smoke and stars kissed each other. Silence was cut by screams.

War was raging.

That night, the coast of Tsushima was destroyed under stars and flames.

And with it men in armour you had never seen before. They rode on horses, slim and elegant with saddles adorned with colourful velvet.

Polished blades shone in the silver light of the moon, reflecting the golden flames of the fire as if they were fighting with the sun itself.

Horns seemed to grow out of their large helmets that appeared to be both heavy yet light. Red and black lit up between the fire. Banners danced in the wind while a song of battle made the sea shiver.

"Samurai...", you whispered.