Alone and running. Malcolm stumbled blindly through the forest, tears blurring his vision. Only an ancient instinct saved him from repeated collisions with the trees. He ran on tirelessly with no thought of direction or destination. He knew only that he had to get away, far away from the terrible house where the men had done hurtful things to him. He blanked all thoughts from his mind except escape. And he ran. Alone and crying through the forest. The daylight waned and night crept in and Malcolm ran on. The sky was tinted grey with the coming dawn when he finally dropped sobbing to the ground. He had used up his youthful body, and in seconds he fell exhausted into a dreamless sleep. When he awoke, it was night again. He was hungry. And he was cold. He still wore only the oversized pyjamas provided for him by Dr Pastory. Both top and bottom were ripped by thorns. The legs were soaked through by the dew.
