Beating drums from across the ravine pounded in her chest.
The eerie stillness of the mountain pressed against her shaking body. She
peered over her shoulder. Only her guard remained, fingers flexing on his
spear.
None could tell her what happened on the other side merely
that doing so insured her village’s survival.
Every decade one girl made the trek. None ever returned.
Into the mist she walked, the rocking bridge much longer
than she’d thought. Once on land, she was greeted by a lone man who looked to
be about her age.
“Welcome, my bride.” He smiled, hand extended.
No comments:
Post a Comment