Day's End

Stray Sheep

It didn't start out as anything alarming.
         
        They didn't know how it happened, or if they even knew they were there. Perhaps it was just a coincidence. Perhaps they were doing what they normally do; whatever that is, but some knew that they had managed to track them down. It didn't start out as anything alarming; just a small crackling which many of them thought were twigs and a small whiff of smoke, but soon everything surrounding them was engulfed in a ravaging fire. As they ran, they were sure they saw someone fall and others surrounding them, but, as they looked back again, they were alone; alone in a forest charred by an angry fire that drowned out their shouts and cries for the others. 
        Their vision was hazy, and they shook with the urge to escape but froze with the paralyzation of indecision. The fire snapped and cracked, more than once sending sparks flying their way and painfully hitting their mark, branding them with their searing heat. Large, flaming branches that could kill them if they stepped under broke from their foundations and smashed on the ashy ground. They found a way around it and ran. The backpack that they wore hardly slowed them down, even urging them to go faster when they realized the importance of the object inside. 
         They choked out a series of coughs, barely able to breathe completely in. Then they heard it. "Sidney!" A voice, barely audible over the fire's snarling, shouted out. Sidney coughed again and, voice hoarse, yelled back, "Hailey?" The other didn't respond; they weren't heard. "Hailey!" They yelled, louder this time, hands outstretched as they tried to avoid hot obstacles. Again, silence. They knew they shouldn't waste their time crying out for the others, so Sidney stopped bleating like a lost lamb and turned back to their track. 
         Sidney ran in one direction and one direction only: forward; even when the flames the Phoenix had alighted blocked their path, they found a way around. Then they saw it. A creek streamed along, inevitably destined to be dried up by the fire that surrounded it. Sidney remembered something; something that might save their life. The creek had to have an emptying point; the point where it emptied out into a larger body of water. 
          They followed the stream's path, water seeping into their already torn shoes. Sidney skidded to a stop; in front of them was a small waterfall, the types you see recreated as fountains. They knelt down and hung themselves over the edge with their hands. The water slickened their grip, and they fell down onto the small, jagged rocks below. Sidney gasped and choked, both from the smoke and the fall. They quickly forced themselves to sit up, the stinging, stabbing pain of the rocks now registering in their mind. Blood dripped from their cuts and gashes, mixing with the water and flowing with the rush of the creek. 
"Damn it!" Sidney managed to croak out, coughing at the sudden rush of smoke entering their lungs.
          They shakily stood, pushing themselves up with their hands and knees. Underneath the waterfall was a log, covered with mold and broken in half, untouched by the fire and blessed by the water. Then they ran for it. They plunged through the gentle fall of water and squeezed themselves in between the log and cold stone of the small cliff. 
          There they waited for what seemed like hours, listening to the cracking of the splintering, flaming wood just up ahead of their hiding spot. A large tree, maybe hundreds of years old, groaned as its trunk gave way to the knawing heat and fell forward, sliding down the waterfall; its burnt crown and broken branches landed in the small creek in front of Sidney, but its trunk and unearthed roots were held up by the top of the fall. The water stream coming down was reduced to a few drops every second, but the cool temperature was kept down by the large puddle and wet stone surrounding the logs. 

"F*ck."

            Sidney suddenly jolted out of sleep, shots still ringing through the silent forest. They finally relaxed and slumped against the stone wall behind them. How long had it been? Days? The fire that ruined the forest finally died down after spouts of snow and rain, but, as Sidney completely registered their situation, a strong feeling of dread came over them. They were alone with the cure and without any weapons, and God-knows-who survived. Maybe the Phoenix were still in the forest. Maybe they had managed to follow Sidney and were now waiting for them to move from their hiding place. Maybe they had killed the others and were just dying to show them their turned corpses.
          A gentle, subtle fall of rain padded against the rock, and, realizing they were sitting in a large puddle, Sidney slowly stood; the throbbing pain the rocks had etched into them hadn't subsided even slightly. They groaned and pushed the large logs out of their way, limping away from the crevice and into the rain. The drops of water stung their multitude of burns, which Sidney quickly covered back up with the sleeves of their jacket. They dared to look up at what surrounded them. The trees were black and charred, and the green grass was dead and grey with ash. The once lively forest now looked like a cemetery. 
          Sidney trudged along the creek's bank, and perhaps from afar they could've been mistaken as a walker; their clothes were bloody, burned, and torn; they limped as they walked; their skin was discolored from malnutrition and dehydration, and they seemed nearly lifeless as they stumbled on. 
           A snap of burnt twigs to the right alerted Sidney, and they stopped, slowly turned their head in fear of what they might see, and froze. They let out a shaky breath of disbelief; a frown twitched at the edges of their mouth, and they were only able to choke on their words. Sidney took a step back. The walker tripped over the branch and fell forward, roughly landing on the sharp rocks just as Sidney had done. They took another step away. They didn't have a weapon, and, even if they did, even if they thought themselves strong enough to, they couldn't kill her. Lidia was different. Lidia wasn't like a mother to them; they weren't attached to her. 
          Sidney looked down at Rose's corpse and took another step. They just stared, unmoving and dry-eyed, so quiet that they could almost hear their own rapid heartbeat. Another shot stirred the silent forest, and the sense of loneliness slowly died down the longer they gazed down at Rose. The gunshot had come from the left, and Sidney had turned their body to follow the noise but stopped. They looked down at her, opened their mouth to say something, but closed it; she won't hear. And they walked away.