Flash Fiction: Hope Was Exhausted
"Hope Was Exhausted"
Hope was exhausted. A month ago, she had left her home, part of the cortege accompanying the Duke's body to the capital. A week's trip she had been assured. Then the bridge had been out. The small party had been ambushed, rebels, hiding in the hills, showering them with arrows than rushing, swords drawn. The fight had been so quick, her people outnumbered. Hope had killed three of the enemy herself, but most of the entourage were not warriors, had no skill with a sword or dagger. Then she saw the Duke's son, his heir, fall. As she rushed to his side, the rebels had retreated, taking all the weapons and valuables they could grab with them. Apparently they had accomplished their mission. Looking around her, Hope saw the overturned carriage, the dead and dying littering the ground. She was the only one left. Bending over the handsome man, she heard him whisper hoarsely, "Take this to the...