He rushed into the wood, leaving behind him a trail of blood. The sky was red and yellow. The sun was about to set. He held a long steel rod tightly. A bow crossed his shoulder. His chest was raising and failing. He stopped under a pine tree. He felt his heart pounding fiercely. His hand was shaking. He looked at his hand and the rod. They were covered in blood. It was not his blood. It was his brother’s. His only survivor friend.
It was one bite. He had to do it.
The undead outnumbered the living. He was the only one living.
This post was published as response to Daily Prompt challenge. Today’s theme was Cut Off