Photo by Photoholgic on Unsplash
Hiding under the leave litter, he breathes heavily. It is after him, but he has the upper hand. He is the last survivor. The others were hasty. The others were without wisdom. Although sadness has seeped into his conscience, he cannot allow himself a moment to mourn. The whisper of Death is closer now, its breath stirs the stillness. Its shrill crackle hurts his ears and echoes in his head. The desire to flee is overtaking him, his heart his pounding, his eyes are wide and wavering. Its wings whoosh above him and its talons…
miss their mark.
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