The Hunters
By David Rae
Snaking roots snare your ankles pulling you under the mud. You grab hold of an overhanging branch and scream. More roots wrap over you and drag you deeper, down towards the underworld. You look to me, begging for help.
My hands fumble as I notch an arrow to my bow.
The End
First published in 50 Word Stories
Exif_JPEG_420
David Rae Stories 