The Scourge

Thunder rumbled somewhere in the west. Or worse, maybe it wasn't even thunder, but something far more terrible. Behind them, the unquenchable Scourge. It was coming, unstoppable, devouring all in its path. Nothing would stop it, they knew, except the great Amberzon River.

The wide, well traveled road led to the east. The crowd surged that way. And why not? The well traveled road was well traveled for a reason, was it not? Dena began to follow. Turned and saw Kevin was not coming with them. He was hesitant to try to urge her to follow him. What if he was wrong?

She worried. Why would he not follow the crowd? Didn't the road make sense? Didn't sticking with the crowd make sense? She had warned him about his arrogance. Told him it was wise to listen to others. He seemed to understand her. Then why did he insist on going west, away from the road? Toward the storm? What did he know?

He explained to her that the Scourge too would take the road. That the Scourge would avoid the storm. Predators hunt the herd, he said. As long as the Scourge had the scent of the herd, they would follow it. He was going west, away from the crowd. Away from the herd. There was no road, but they would find deer paths. He was afraid to convince her and be wrong. He was afraid to not convince her, and be right. The crowd was doomed, he said. The only way to make it was away from the crowd. He was going west, toward the storm. There was no time to waste.

 

by Kevin Lenihan