The long trek

Nobody knew how long they had traveled. Of the ones that had originally set out on this journey to safety and freedom, none survived. It was the sons and daughters of the sons and daughters of that fabled time that kept on going forward, forever moved on by the tales of their forefathers. And even though their reality had become legendary among their people, they still knew by heart the reasons for their fleeing. There was not a child among them that didn’t know the tales of hardship and terror that had made them undertake the perilous and uncertain journey into the wilderness. Every time these stories were told, a hush fell over all those who listened, be they young or old. They told of a cruel kingdom, an empire built on the bones of a cursed people. Countless generations of slaves had toiled and bled for the greater glory of their masters, building palaces and tombs ever more fantastic, while their own people died and suffered more under the yoke of every new ruler. Many questioned the fact that they had been enslaved for so long, held in check not so much by the bloody reprisals of their masters, but more by the horrors that awaited them should they ever choose to flee the kingdom, surrounded as it was by an endless expanse of wilderness.
Of all of those that had tried to flee into the wild, just a handful had come back. Of those lucky enough to return, just a few were sane or unharmed enough to recount their experience. Before facing the ultimate penalty facing all those who tried to flee: summary execution.