Christopher Prevost

Them

We were cold. It didn’t take long before the evening wind’s unending reach would latch onto our bones. A fire would give away our location so that was out of the question. We did everything in our power to remain still, should they find us quivering in the growing darkness, all would be lost. The bush was our friend, yet it would take just one broken branch to have them come barreling our way. It was still late spring, so the evenings still had that winter bite. Death and madness were everywhere now.