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Weekly Contest #263
The Ghost and the Half-Blood “Marley, I’m too old for this running, my sweet child,” Mek Hemlock wheezed, his breath coming in laboured gasps as he stumbled over the uneven ground. The rest of the group was already several paces ahead, their hurried footsteps barely audible over the pounding of Marley’s heart. “I know, Mr. Hemlock,” Marley replied, her voice laced with urgency as she gently gripped his arm to steady him. “But we have to keep going if we want to live. It’s almost nightfall. We can’t let them find us...
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