February 11, 2016 by Montago Burgess
The moon hung high in the sky, casting streams of light through the thick foliage of the woods below. A lone figure was dragging himself through the dense trees, stopping every so often to catch his breath. He was covered in wounds. Cuts and bruises postmarked his skin, a broken arrow was embedded in his thigh. Shaking he leaned against a gnarled tree trunk. Through the dense woods he could see the tell-tale lights of civilization. Almost there.
“I got lucky.” He thought wearily. “The village is just up ahead. A few more miles. That’s it. I can do this!”
He summoned his strength, determined to survive.
“ Just focus. One foot in front of the other. One. Two. Three….”
He wasn’t certain how long he continued his count. The last he remembered was four hundred sixty five.
Crouching low, he pressed his body against a tree, trying to determine the direction of the sound. Every muscle screamed in protest at the sudden movement. Perfectly still he waited. After what seemed like an eternity he finally moved from hiding.
The sound was short, barely a second long. However, in the second he knew he would never see the sun again. His life flashed before his eyes. Hunting wildlife with his dad, learning how to make his first saddle, brewing mysterious ingredients he found gathering herbs. All of it in just a fraction of a second.
He felt his body lift off the ground, weightless and numb. He felt no pain. As his body hit the the tree behind him, he heard a sharp crack as his skull fractured. Landing on his stomach, the world suddenly seemed to be drenched in red. The last thing he saw was a huge cloud of dust, trees completely obliterated, and a giant crater feet from where he was standing.
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