/lit/ - Literature

"How long have we waited?" asked the little girl. Her breath was frosty and visible in the night air.
"Not long enough," said the boy.
"Are we going to die?" she asked.
"No," he said. "Now just be quiet."
They were hiding behind some bushes in the tree line beside a road. Trucks had passed – trucks carrying soldiers – but that was a few minutes ago. All they had to do was cross the road.
"I don't hear any more trucks," said the girl. "I think it's safe."
The boy leaned out of the tree line, and looked both ways. Snow fell, drifting lightly, falling like white feathers from the sky. No one was there. It was safe.
"Okay," said the boy. "Okay, let's go but be quick."
He took her hand and they ran across the road, safely, quietly. They had reached the other side. The boy started running further into the woods, then stopped. The girl was tugging his sleeve.
"What?" he asked.
She was pointing to the road. Footprints.
They'd left footprints.
"Shit!" cried the boy. "No time! Just run. They might not see them."