The ground rumbled beneath his feet and Mic looked up, assessing the potential damage of this latest quake. It built to ferocious intensity quickly, terrifying the already traumatized souls who lingered nearby and causing the frightened mass to run in panic from the rift that snaked across the ground.
Mic ran along with the others, avoiding the falling tents and bodies, helping those whom he could as he sprinted across the dry desert floor. A makeshift water tower fell, halting his progress abruptly. A small whimper sounded in his ears, the noise strangely loud above the chaos around him. He spun wildly, looking for the source. The small cries wrapped around him, invaded his soul, then coalesced as he zeroed on the terrified young girl standing only a few yards from him.
He looked frantically at the encroaching gulf and wondered at his sanity when he reached her in several long strides and swung her small frame into the dubious safety of his arms.
The screams were deafening in their intensity, only exacerbated by the voices that were violently silenced by the encroaching crater.
Mic ran, as fast as his legs would carry them. The girl buried her small face in his shoulder and his arms tightened around her protectively. Possessively. He would see her to safety if it cost him his own life.
The never ending shaking changed the landscape behind him, and Mic could hear the screams of the dying amid the destruction of the hastily constructed tent city.
He ran, holding the child close to his heart, wishing he were able to protect her tender soul from the carnage around them. A large tent overturned, falling in front of him. The muscles in his legs tensed and he jumped, barely clearing the tip of the canvassed pole as it thumped the ground beneath him. The girl jarred against his solid chest as he landed just a little too roughly.
An eternity later, the violent shaking finally stopped. Mic slowed the tortuous pace and turned slowly, holding the girl’s head to his shoulder where she could not see as he surveyed the damage. Then he looked down into a pair of wide eyes, blue as the crystal sea, and felt his heart clench. He had to get her to safety, keep her from viewing the horror around them.
He wondered at the strange protectiveness that held him tight in destiny’s grip. He could only describe it as a fierce primal urge, probably spawned from the stress and shock, or a leftover reaction from his adrenaline high. No matter, the instinct would not be ignored.
And he had spent too long in the canvas town anyway. Dragon was not here.
A tethered horse danced skittishly nearby and he rushed to it. Lifting the girl into the saddle the mare still wore, he easily swung himself in behind her. Grabbing a canteen and Red Cross supply bag on the way, he headed east, away from nature’s destruction.
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