Note - This story depicts peoples, events, items, or other things that exist or have existed in the real world. However, this story is a work of fiction, so some of the truths surrounding these things may be warped. Thank you for reading.

…

Patter, patter, patter, crash! Clang, clang, patter patter.

Rain poured from the sky in droves, gathering in the wide cracks in the rocky road. The noise caused by the downpour was nearly able to mask the sound produced by the brutality nearby.

As the storm raged on, all though muffled by the rain, voices could be heard. There were two people in the middle of the tempest; both middle aged men with muscular, well forged bodies. One was in a chariot while the other one was riding a horse.

“Paté… we ha… go,” One said. This man was bald, but had a scruffy, thick beard that went about to the base of his neck. The light from the lightning reflected off of his dark brown eyes as rain trickled down his rough, brownish skin. “The rest wi…re soon.” The man was bleeding, albeit slightly from his face and arms

“Wai… eos, I must ensu… afety,” the man in the chariot stated, he, like the other man, had brown skin and eyes with a nice beard. The only differences were that he had some hair on his head and that he was carrying something. He looked less injured compared to the bald man, however he still had a few cuts on his limbs.

Both men were wearing cloaks, most likely to protect them from the rain. However, the wind had blown both of their hoods off, so their heads and faces were in full view. Parts of their cloaks were stained with blood that was slowly dripping, coagulating into puddles on the ground.

“We don…ime,” the bald man shouted, “besi… anger woul… nknown chi…” He was growing more impatient by the second. “Figu… ething quic… most here!”

“I kno…,” the other responded, “…ld on.” The man jumped off of his chariot with something swaddled in his arms; a child. He looked around briefly before hiding the child behind a nearby shrub. He looked unsatisfied, however he did not have the time to be picky.

For a split second, the bald man looked as if he were about to laugh, however that expression immediately vanished, as if he remembered the situation he was currently in. “…n we g…ey have almo…p,” he said.

Horses could be heard in the distance, which meant that “they” were almost there.

“…o late, wh…do,” the bald one asked, “Do we fig…ry to hide?”

“Run while you still can, Thì…ll try to stall them,” the man who reentered his chariot announced. “If mit…ve, tel… ove her.”

“B…ord, I could nev-,” “Hurry! We hav…ime,” the man in the chariot interrupted.

The bald man looked down with a solemn look on his face. A twinge of pain, regret, and a bit of shame flashed on his face for a second before he rode off into the distance away from the sounds of the other horses, which were growing louder and nearer by the second.

Now, the only ones left were the man in the chariot and the infant in a nearby shrub. The strange thing was, the infant had yet to utter a single cry, even through the thunderstorm. Looking at its face, you would never be able to guess it was in a chariot moving at about 40 mph a few seconds ago. Wrapped in a bundle of cloth, it sat there motionlessly, as if it wasn’t even alive. A small piece of papyrus with something inscribed on it sat bundled next to the child in the cloth.

The man in the chariot stared at the child with soft eyes before looking back up to where twenty men on horses had arrived. They looked at the man, contempt shrouding their faces, before pulling out their swords.

“…m sorry, my s… ray for yo…y,” the man whispered one last time. He grasped his spear and faced the men with eyes full of resolve. He breathed in and out deeply.

The man who looked to be the leader of the men on the horses trotted forward a bit with a face exuding scorn.

Finally, the man in the chariot screamed and charged toward the men on horses, lifting his spear before he screamed.

Only then did the child start to cry.