Amy Ward's Page

This winter was bitter cold, and quiet, too quiet for its own good. The trees were bare save for a few withered, shivering leaves. The sky was an overcast gray. The birds had flown to warmer nesting. Ember turned abruptly toward the sudden sound to her right, and raised her handgun. Just a piece of trash, dragging against the concrete carried by wind. “Damn it.” she said low, but aloud. No walking dead here. She lowered her gun, but kept it out of the holster, just in case. She remembered the… Continue