The Faded Shield
The rain fell in sheets of gray. Elias ran. His boots squelched in the mud. He looked back. The village was burning. Not just the houses. The air. The sky was a bruised purple. He held the shield. It was heavy. It was not metal. It was cloth. A quilt. Patchwork. Blue. Red. Yellow. His mother’s hands had made it. Years ago. Before the war. Before the noise. Elias was a merchant. He sold wool. He...
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