The contrast of the plain below was stark. Beyond the edge of the forest, across the boundary to the other country, there lay only barren, empty land. Parched and dry it would provide for no man.

The drums of war beat on. He can hear them getting louder behind him. The choice is clear, the answer uncertain.

Stay and fight for his place in the land of his birth, where, if circumstances fall in his favour he may rise to become something more, or flee to the land of his ancestors, where the struggle would be not for greatness but to simply survive.

The drums of war beat louder. Not a war of bullets and bombs, a war of rhetoric and spite. A war for the very heart and soul of humanity and the country. Will anyone rise up and save her, that country that promised so much?

Thomas Jefferson…