She was a zombie. Well, worse than a zombie. She was a zombie in pain. Every muscle in her body ached. At least they had stopped to hide. Litte Daya was fast asleep in her arms, a breeze tugging at her soft, pale curls. Michael's cheek retsed on her lap while his twin brother David and eighteen year old Capris rested against either side of Tristan's shoulders. He and Aishe seemed to take turns glaring bitterly at Ira.
It had been to months since the attack on their home. Since they fled and found out Ira's group were not monsters, but in fact people like themselves with a fascinating technology. They had two choices: run away with them or die.
Aishe could feel hunger pangs stabbing into her stomach. They left behind most of their rations when they were attacked yet again. Capris suffered a sprained ankle and Tristan has to nurse a wound in his arm.
Aishe looked down at them, her face pained. Somehow, she felt responsible. She was the one in charge and even though their life before wasn't great, they still had a roof over their heads and food in their bellies.
She turned to Ira, her voice cold. "Where did you say this village was again. "Oh, not too much further" was what you said, oh about a week ago, right?"