Forward, Part 1

[For today’s response to the Daily Post prompt, Under the Snow, I’m revisiting a portion of a lengthy scene I had written for my novel. This will be another multi-part response; this vacation is really disrupting my routine.]

He was wearing down, his body language unable to speak with the same defiance of his words. Shoulders drooping forward, as if a boulder were bearing down on his back; the shuffle of his limping gait losing its energy, the injured ankle no longer lifting the foot as it scraped over the frozen surface of the dirt road; each breath an effort, vapor bursting from his mouth like an overworked steam engine.

He’s not going to make it, she thought. But he had to make it, all the way up the fire road. She wouldn’t leave him, and carrying him simply wasn’t possible. He had to keep going.

Which meant she had to find a way to distract him from his injury. Keep his mind occupied.

“Who do you think Coach will name as team captain?” The words came out of her without her even thinking about them.

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