We would like to thank @yourfriendbri for being our first reader to comment and vote. She is very friendly and has a few finished works. She has been very nice and thanks to anyone else that has read. SORRY, THIS IS SOOOO SHORT.
The soles of my feet were on fire and my back felt like it had been snapped in two.
Even Beatha's light as a featherweight was making me uncomfortable. But I wasn't one to complain.
I paused for a bit to catch my breath. We had finally left the busy urban streets but now seeing fences, barbed wire, and dirt. Lots of dirt. Occasionally we would see small farms. The ones that you would probably see in movies I imagined. Painted red with white wooden planks angled creating crosses. The only thing that broke this image was that the glass was shattered, paint chipped, doors locked with chains, and that rooster on the roof that should crow you awake was dead either rotten away by starvation or eaten by some scavenger; human or animal.
"I don't think I can keep going". Flavius breathed.
I sighed he was correct it was only now that the sun was setting. The blazing yellow orb was kissing the horizon creating orange fires that danced across the sky, the fluffy soft pink clouds stretched and blended while giving way to a color you only see on a fruit called pomegranate that rich people eat. It looked like a masterpiece of watercolor.
"It's beautiful," I said staring mesmerized at its beauty.
"Yeah," Flavius agreed his eyes reflecting the landscape.
"It looks like blood seeping out of the hells," he murmured. I was taken aback by how gory, he had made it out to be.
"Uhhhh ha," I mumbled he now had ruined the viewed and I felt scarred, he had just ruined it all for me.
"Let's take a rest but I want to keep going. It'll be easier to move." I didn't want to stop as I felt like we weren't far away from the city.
We were on foot and if Flavius was serious about people after me or if there was prize money and I was spotted they could come after us on horse or wheels.
I sat perched on a wooden fence with splintered planks.
"Can we spare anything?" I asked. He shuffled things around in the rucksack we have one loaf of stale bread, a slice of cheddar cheese and two canteens one of milk and the other of water.
"Yeah," he said passing me two slices of bread and a half of the cheese.
I put Beatha down and tilted her head up so that she wouldn't choke. I broke the bread into small chunks and soaked them in milk. Once they became soggy and soft I pressed them on her lips so she would part them.
"Come on, eat it up, you'll feel better," I ushered as she opened her mouth and she chewed slowly like a little bird. Beatha coughed and her glassy eyes fluttered open. She swallowed and even that looked like a feat for her, her small delicate throat bobbing up and down.
"It's so cold, how much longer?" she whispered in a croaky voice. I nestled her to my chest and laid the blanket over her "not much baby, not much," I answered looking at where we were supposed to head and hoping with all my heart that my words were correct.
YOU ARE READING
Defying Death
Teen Fiction19/5/23 That was the date printed on my skin. The date I was to die... That was yesterday. And I'm still alive. ---------------------- 17-year-old orphan Chaya is a muddy meaning that she is the lowest of the population. Dates printed on the collarb...