Ella

They follow me like baby ducks.

I’ve counted thirty-eight of them so far, though several of the witches are barely able to walk on their own. Everytime I speak, thirty-eight sets of eyes light on mine, unblinking. If I stop walking abruptly, the dozen or so strongest unsheath blades and bows and arrows we stole from the dead warriors we left in the caves.

The caves… well, the witches and I didn’t leave right away. Those strong enough to fight killed the rest of the warriors while the others went to free their sisters from the networks of cells hidden along darkened corridors. All of the strange pyres were...