The night was closing in on us. Sooner or later, we would have to stop and rest. Our leader, Blade, told us he didn't want to stop in the woods, but I'm not sure we can go on much longer. We are tired and our army is wounded. If we want to get to the Rising alive, we shall have to stop.
I approached Blade, hoping to speak my mind, but he turned to face me and shook his head. "We must keep going. I told you we are not stopping in the woods. If we stop, we become vulnerable. Do you want that, Gwendolyn?" He looked at me, his eyes filled with question.
I shook my head.
"I thought so. I know we are weak, but when we get to the Rising, we will grow. We will heal. We will become strong again."
I nodded in agreement, but my heart tried to resist. We won't make it alive. I thought to myself.
"We cannot heal and grow if there is no one left," I grumbled.
Blade turned away from me, and I moved back to my previous position.
I looked at the people around me. There were women who carried babies that looked far too thin. Children, no older than seven, walked alone because their parents had died either by fighting in the war or from fatigue and disease. Trudging along were teenagers carrying younger siblings too weak to walk and with no one else to carry them. Men were few; most had died in our battle.
Families were broken, lives were shattered, yet we carried on. There was no time for despair and sadness. Our village's motto was 'No Matter How Bad It Is, We Never Leave Anyone Behind'. People are still living up to that. If someone falls, a person nearby will help the fallen get back up.
The people are being brave. They were told to brace themselves for the worst — and they did — but not even Blade could predict a blow this hard the village. Yet we carried on in silence. We did not stop. We never stopped walking, believing, and hoping. And so we are still here; still alive.
Now all we can do is pray that God will spare our lives... until we reach the Rising.