Head in a Bag

Ella

They follow me like baby ducks.

I’ve counted thirty-eight of them so far, though several of the witches are barely able to walk on their own. Everytime I speak, thirty-eight sets of eyes light on mine, unblinking. If I stop walking abruptly, the dozen or so strongest unsheath blades and bows and arrows we stole from the dead warriors we left in the caves.

The caves… well, the witches and I didn’t leave right away. Those strong enough to fight killed the rest of the warriors while the others went to free their sisters from the networks of cells hidden along darkened corridors. All of the strange pyres were staunched, and the walls….

I glance around at the witches setting up camp along the base of a cliff. Most of them are splattered with blood, and their hands are covered in it. They painted the walls of those caves red.

I exhale deeply and continue poking the fire in front of me. Rain rips through the camp in sheets that pass as quickly as they come. A huge storm just tore th