Faces (Chris)
Chris tossed and turned in her sleep. Images flashed through her mind. Her hiding behind a tree trunk. Sword rising and falling, her mother’s head rolling to the ground. A contrast colour of red spilling into the green of the grass. Her mother’s body dropping lifelessly. Her brother torched in a roaring fire. Him, demanding her to follow him to his death. Following her, cursing her for abandoning him. For not leaving with him. For not understanding his pain before it was too late.

Chris’s eyes opened. She didn’t flail around; she didn’t scream—she simply woke up panting for breath. Chris shivered, and it had nothing to do with the chill of the dying night. She had buried her memories deep in her soul. It had been a long time since it resurfaced in her nightmares. These memories were best left forgotten.

Looking around her tent, she noticed Rina snoring away. Ignoring the woman, she walked out of the tent. It was almost dawn, so there was no point going back to sleep. Instead, she cou
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