They fled on foot, and all night. There was no choice. The baby was too little for anything else, and not for anything would they leave him. They had left it too late, she realized. They just hadn’t been able to believe it. Not until the stories started coming, of burnings, quarterings, people chased to their deaths from horseback. They were no longer welcome in this new world.
They were going south. If they were lucky, they might make it across the border before the invaders reached them. Maybe. They kept going. There were no choices left. Only the hurry.
Since this week Trifecta has given us *gasp* two and a half weeks to come up with a more substantial bit of fiction, I’m trying my hand at 100-word fiction with this week’s Velvet Verbosity challenge. The prompt: hurrying. This goes along with The Fall. Thanks for reading!