Defeated, Not Weak

She wasn’t going to quit. “You’ve been through worse’n’this,” she counseled herself and wiped her arm across her lip. Blood, mud, and sweat painted her cheek, a long gritty smear from lip to ear, and she struggled with the fear and fatigue tearing at her muscles, fighting against her as she rose to her feet.

Her vision hazed over, perspirant burned at her eyes. She tasted iron on her tongue and in her nose and her arms sagged useless, one deadened numb, by her side.

“You ain’t done yet?” A disembodied voice vibrating from tree to tree.

“Saiyadorei don’t quit…” A strained spiteful reply.

She supposed, this was how she would die.


Daily Prompt: Commit


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