You’ll Be Sorry
And so it ends.
Now he’s running, burning legs punching through knee-deep snow. Her awkward bulk is clasped desperately against his chest. His heart, pounding to the point of nearly bursting.
A trail of red dotting the white-blanketed wilderness behind them.
He staggers forward through the fierce blizzard, head down, shoulders rounded. Fighting against the wind, the stinging cold, the sheer intractability of Mother Nature. Must keep moving. Faster, farther, only hope they have left…
“No secrets no secrets no secrets,” he mutters in her ear.
But it’s already much too late for that.
He collapses into the snow, her limp body dragging him down.
He tries to rise to standing. Tries to pull her up with him.
In the end, exhaustion wins out, and he lies beside her, his form curled protectively around hers, as icy white flakes continue to pelt down, quickly covering the mound of their entwined bodies.
A man and woman.
A story of what might’ve been.
And the dog who saves them.