Mud walk

The thick mud caked her boots and painted her pants with abstract strokes. Turbid and deep, she struggled. Trudging forward, she planted each step with purpose. Some steps sank deeper than others, soaking her socks, wrinkling her toes and chafing her heels. The journey was not easy but standing still felt purposeless. During the darker nights, paralysis would seep in brought on by exhaustion and feelings of overwhelment. Yet still, with the lifting of the morning mist, her journey would continue. A journey for the purpose of journeying.

Lina had been exiled weeks ago. Unwilling to ****



The Council of Dowagers had gathered, cast their lots and began watching the sky. It was the falcon that had sealed her fate. With little fanfare, she had gathered what little she had and left without protest.