"My father taught me that they were our Guardians and that we would never be lonely anymore."
"Because we would have them protecting us… and that's what I believed in."
A young woman walked amidst the chaos the burning cars, the cracked roads, and the collapsing houses.
Her eyes were beautiful yet weighed heavy, and her legs moved with full determination despite the bruising and the dark patches of burn marks all over her skin.
A woman whose clothing was made of expensive fabrics and a long white skirt that danced with each step, yet it was tainted with murky blood not hers, but her brethren's.
The night might've been the darkest of the year, as there was no other light except from the fire.
Anyone would fall to their knees, begging whatever god they believed in, hoping for a safe passage.
And yet the woman walked straight ahead, panting; it was harder for her to breathe with all the smoke and blood in the air.
"Don't… you worry, they all have left the city… without us, b-but we will catch up with them."
Surely, she was confident as she rubbed her protruding belly.
"Nothing has happened… it is just like yesterday… and soon your father will return too."
Her next step met something a bit squishy yet warm.
Her gaze lowered to a warm corpse of a man, disfigured and marked clearly by blades across his chest.
She did not shout nor scream.
Her focus remained on the bright moon before her solace.
It wasn't just the warm body she ignored but the dozens of piles scattered behind her, like moths scattered at sunrise.