I don't really know how to write but I do it a lot. And no, I don't have any credibility.
Day of the Unfit
Sarora stood among small trees and plants grazing her coat. A gust of wind forced a thorned branch to scratch her cheek, but her eyes didn’t so much as blink. They remained focused on the sleeping babe Sarora had laid in a nook of downed leaves and small, blue flowers. Only thirty feet stood between the child and Sarora, but it felt like thirty miles. She forced herself to stay rigid, emotionless. Waiting.