Lion
i
The darkness had settled, blinding and starless. Their pyre burned, flames of victory dancing under the empty sky. A thousand men joined the chorus of triumph, chanting their conquests to reverberate through the trees, but no crescendo could silence the echo of death.
She ran from them; she ran though her lungs were ignited with the chill and her body was numb. She ran until she could not hear their songs, but a remorseful melody still hung in her heart. The wind whispered through the trees and her heart thrummed on with it. There was still life. There was still hope.
One foot after the other, she trod over the frozen ground. With every breath, the warmth left her; she was merely a thought in motion. She could not stop for fear of giving up. She could not know how far she had run, nor could she be sure that she had gone the right direction, but it was too much to wonder and so hope carried her forward.
It was some time before she stumbled. The exhaustion made it impossible for her to recover. The frosted land met her cheek, tearing the flesh like a dagger might carve meat. Her arm buckled unceremoniously beneath the weight of the collapse and her chest compressed against the earth. In the night she writhed, gasping futilely for breath. Blood leaked slowly down her face, thick from the cold and reluctant to freeze. As she lie immobile, the numbness faded. Staring up at the barren trees she felt the breeze through her toes, uncovered and broken. With every blink it was harder to open her eyes again; the call of slumber beckoned her deeper into the darkness…but in the distance—
“Wait,” she breathed. Eyes wide, she struggled to find balance on her knees. Her soft palms found the bark of a tree. There was no pain as the rough hide ripped into her hands while she grappled to her feet. The others were not far. She knew it now. She had made no mistake.
This time each step meant agony in every bone. This is no pain, she told herself. A gust brought the scent of horses to her and she continued forward. Closer and closer. Soon.
“Hey!” a man called. Before she could see him, hot tears brimmed over her eyes. Her knees gave way and she fell once more to a pitiful heap. The icy blades crunched beneath his boots. Their buckles chimed in stride. “Olaf, a survivor!”
I am not. She gazed up at nothing and everything. He was faceless beside her, distraught from her arrival. She did not know him; he did not comfort her. Yet she closed her eyes and became invincible.
Hello. Disregard the glitchy layout. I'll get to it. Eventually.
She ran from them; she ran though her lungs were ignited with the chill and her body was numb. She ran until she could not hear their songs, but a remorseful melody still hung in her heart. The wind whispered through the trees and her heart thrummed on with it. There was still life. There was still hope.
One foot after the other, she trod over the frozen ground. With every breath, the warmth left her; she was merely a thought in motion. She could not stop for fear of giving up. She could not know how far she had run, nor could she be sure that she had gone the right direction, but it was too much to wonder and so hope carried her forward.
It was some time before she stumbled. The exhaustion made it impossible for her to recover. The frosted land met her cheek, tearing the flesh like a dagger might carve meat. Her arm buckled unceremoniously beneath the weight of the collapse and her chest compressed against the earth. In the night she writhed, gasping futilely for breath. Blood leaked slowly down her face, thick from the cold and reluctant to freeze. As she lie immobile, the numbness faded. Staring up at the barren trees she felt the breeze through her toes, uncovered and broken. With every blink it was harder to open her eyes again; the call of slumber beckoned her deeper into the darkness…but in the distance—
“Wait,” she breathed. Eyes wide, she struggled to find balance on her knees. Her soft palms found the bark of a tree. There was no pain as the rough hide ripped into her hands while she grappled to her feet. The others were not far. She knew it now. She had made no mistake.
This time each step meant agony in every bone. This is no pain, she told herself. A gust brought the scent of horses to her and she continued forward. Closer and closer. Soon.
“Hey!” a man called. Before she could see him, hot tears brimmed over her eyes. Her knees gave way and she fell once more to a pitiful heap. The icy blades crunched beneath his boots. Their buckles chimed in stride. “Olaf, a survivor!”
I am not. She gazed up at nothing and everything. He was faceless beside her, distraught from her arrival. She did not know him; he did not comfort her. Yet she closed her eyes and became invincible.
Hello. Disregard the glitchy layout. I'll get to it. Eventually.