[ CW ] Start with `` Everyone knew trying to run was futile , yet so far all of them tried anyway '' , end with `` I do n't make the rules , I just enforce them . ''

Everyone knew that trying to run was futile, yet so far all of them had tried anyway. `` Runner!'' bellowed the head marksman. The four apprentice archers by his side loaded their crossbows, as they always did, aimed and followed the rebel. `` Fire!'' Four arrows flew toward the elderly gentlemen simultaneously. The first hitting his thigh, knocking him to the ground and covering him in a cloud of dust where presumably the other three arrows hit, producing screams of pain. `` Good job boys, the wolves will finish him off''. The dust cleared and the man lay in a pool of blood, his hands clutched to his chest where an arrow had pierced his body. 
 
 Why do they run? It is n't so bad here. My papa often told us bedtime stories of the wilderness that lay beyond the gates but there was no truth in them, there could n't be. Stories of warriors and their fair maidens, of how the sun would disappear behind a bottomless pool of water larger than the River Mudd and stories of a paradise where every man was his own and did what he liked. The thoughts took over me when I was just five years old, but they were only stories. What lay beyond our citadel was a wasteland. A blood-drenched wasteland of savage men upon savage beasts. Where else would all our resources go? The coal from the burrowing mines below our feet, the wood from the huge oak forests surrounding the citadel and the various concoctions made by the housewives in the greenhouses.. it was all for the Great War, *obviously*. It was almost sunrise, I'd oiled crossbows and shaped bolts all night long. My hands were blackened and my joints stiff. `` Alright laddy, off you go''. I was dismissed.. but I could n't go home to bed just yet. 
 
 The school huts were n't the most pleasant creations in the citadel. It was understandable, I guess, supplying the Elders with supplies was far more important than learning about reading and numbers. As soon as I turned twelve on my next birthday, I was destined for the walls as an archer. My papa told me it was the bravest of the jobs in the citadel - to protect the walls from the savage men and to stop the rebels from the city joining them. `` How was your night killing innocent people?'' teased Aeri. She was older than me by two years. A know it all. `` I'm not in the mood.'' I yawned in reply, rolling my eyes. 
 
 `` Do you never question what you're doing?'' she asked, `` are you that stupid?'' 
 
 `` Excuse me?'' she could n't be serious. `` If it was n't for **us** protecting you, you would be **dead**''. 
 
 `` Do you just believe everything you're told, Seamus?'' she giggled hysterically. `` Do you really think we've been fighting a war for all this time?'' 
 
 `` Of course we have!'' I stamped my foot. How dare she question the Elders. Some people just did n't get it. 
 
 `` Where do the rivers go, Seamus? Where do the men go? What's out there that they do n't want us to see?'' I could feel the blood pumping through my veins, I could just reach over there and slap- the school bell sounded. She skipped off and looked back at me, and grinned at my puzzled state as I began to question for myself what was really out there. The school yard was empty, I rushed inside before the lesson started, but the thought bugged me all day long. As it got to lunch time and the thoughts of what to eat made every other thought inferior, there was no point questioning what happened beyond the wall, I was safe here. It was n't my problem and that did n't bother me. I do n't make the rules, I just enforce them. 

