It's been a very long time since I wrote something over here...wow...
Um, sorry if I'm a bit rusty!
Enjoy!
His Eyes
By doodlegirll
***
I watched as the sun peeked above the horizon, and swallowed the growing lump at the back of my throat.
I was too late.
He was on his way to his death at that very moment.
I bit my lip, my vision blurring. There was nothing I could do to stop this, to save him from a death that he did not deserve. I was helpless, my hands as tied as his own.
He would die this very morning, and I could nothing but sit back and watch.
Tears began to cascade down my cheeks, and I didn't even bother to wipe them away. I let the run their course, like the river I knew so well.
As I watched the sun rise higher and higher in the sky, memories flashed in front of me. Memories of he and I before everything went wrong, back when nothing else mattered but us.
I remembered the warmth of his hand in mine as we ran through the forest, the way his blue eyes shined whenever he looked at me.
I remembered the sadness in his eyes when he looked at me in that hut. He didn't need to say anything. His eyes said it all: how sorry he was, how he wished things could be different, how much he loved me.
Those eyes burned with an intensity I had never seen before. They burned with a passion, and with a painful past. In his eyes I saw a man that had no idea what his purpose was in this life, a man who had no idea who he really was. His eyes were warm, and in them, I saw a promise I could believe in.
I felt something soft and furry brush my side, and I looked down to see Meeko perched there, something shiny clutched between his tiny paws. He held it out to me, and I took it from him, examining it closely.
It was his compass.
The tears returned when I remembered everything he had told me. I looked at the compass, and suddenly, I felt an anger building inside of me.
Why was I sitting here, when I could be there, at least doing something to try and save his life?
Why was I sitting here, feeling sorry for myself when with every second that passed was one he had less of?
With a final look at the compass, I stood to my feet, and faced the sunrise. Gone were the tears, replaced by a fierce determination.
I took off running, through the trees and bush, towards that horizon where he waited for me.
I had nothing I could possibly give but the chance that he would live. I had nothing to offer but my own life for his, a life that would surely mean nothing without him.
As I ran up the pleateu, pushing my way through the crowd surrounding my father as he raised his club high, I saw his blue eyes close, tightly, and I promised myself that they would open again. I would see them again.
And as I threw myself into the line of death, I knew that no words would ever have to be spoken.
Because as I gazed down at him, awaiting and willing the end to come as my father looked around him, contemplating his next move, his eyes said it all.
Hope you all enjoyed!