Archamia paced back and forth waiting. Time seemed to stand still, though the fire flew through the forest, as if ignoring the restrictions of time. It jumped, dancing from tree to tree, preforming a dance that only Satan himself could have choreographed.
The river was no more peaceful than the fire. It rushed as if trying to escape from the fire in the same frantic nature as the people. Archamia looked down stream. The last few men were getting into the boats, and still no sign of him.
Lord, please let him be safe. She prayed. He was the only constant her life had know. She depended on him. She once again scanned the river looking for him. Here eyes darted from fact to face; no sign of him. She sighed looking to the river again.
Soot fell from the sky, coating her normally pale skin in a thin layer of black. Her dark mahogany hair was wet with sweat generated from the fire.
Brother, where are you? She was beginning to worry now. He should have been here. The last boat had pushed out into the rushing waters of the river. The village must be clear. And yet he wasn't here. What could be keeping him. The thoughts wove their way through her head in the same way the fingers of flames wove their way through the the branches of the trees.
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