Their war cries rang in our ears as we marched, echoing our raspy breaths and heavy footsteps. It was as if they were still pursuing us, chasing us even now.
We didn’t look back; there was nothing to look back to.
We only walked, the soles of our feet aching from the miles already behind us and our toes itching from our many scratches and blisters.
I look to the hills overhead, and feel my heart ache. We’d nearly reached our sanctuary, but there were so many of us who would never get there. There were so many we’d failed.
This short story is for the purposes of the Friday Fictioneers writing prompt. This is one of the toughest that I’ve encountered, as participants only have 100 words to answer the given photo prompt. Thank you so much for reading!