Drabble: Something Wicked this way Comes

About half way through the grassy meadow, in unspoken agreement, they stopped. Connor picked wildflowers and Abby laughed as he tried to tuck them in her hair. Nick watched, the smallest of smiles lurking at the corners of his mouth. The soldiers began an impromptu game of football. The pain of the cold dark winter and the betrayals and the death were washed away in the warm bright sunshine.

Gradually, one by one, they fell asleep.

Only Lyle remained awake, gripping his gun tightly and fighting the soporific, sweet-smelling air with one hard and brittle thought.

His thumbs were pricking.