The rain felt like acid on his chaffed skin. The sun had licked him dry, nearly to the bone and left him tender. He’d hoped that the clouds above would have given him some relief but the water, tainted by the poison that saturated the air, had only made a bad situation even worse.
Pushing himself upward with a chorus of slurred oaths and grunts, he peered forward. From where he sat, he had at least another mile to go before he reached the borders of Homeland. By then he would have found shelter and gained enough distance between them and himself to rest up and lick his wounds.
Turning on your clan was never a wise thing to do. There was no going back. There wasn’t even a safe haven to be found amongst other clans.
Traitors were trusted by no one and were hunted by all.
He could have cried with empty repentance for what he’d done, but his tears would have been false. He wouldn’t change a thing.
Like the parable of Jesus, he’d found his precious pearl hidden in the field, and he’d sold just about his very soul to get it.
Stumbling to his feet, he glanced down at his scarred palms, took in a breath and forced his legs to move.
*This has been a long overdue study in stream of consciousness writing. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did to write it.
~Dream. Imagine. Believe. Do. CONQUER!