Cloth
Part 6 of Falling
A drabble
By Twitchy
16 Jan 2004

He had become nothing but steady movement and determination.

He was damned if he was going to die in this god forsaken place.

He would be damned for giving in.

The pounding behind his skull reduced him to basic impulses.

The most basic - a will to live.

His uniform was stiff, caked with sand, grit and blood, but it was still that – a uniform. Symbol of what he stood for.

Never surrender. Return home.

He raised his head at the sound of cloth flapping in the wind, barely comprehending.

The flag. His flag. Flying over a lone outpost.

He straightened and stumbled with dignity away from the desert, the stars on the flag beckoning him.

Stars that called him home.

**********
FIN.