The Hue Runner

“Upon each of your crowns will be placed this marking, a symbol of hope,” called the Hue Master dressed in his dusted whites, “a reminder of the rules we are all bound to-“

“More like enslaved to,” muttered Rannock in my ear. His disgust carefully hidden beneath a penitent brow.

“Quiet,” I murmured, “they’ll hear.”

We shifted there, upon the cracked cement, a group of hopefuls. Having passed the test of colours we were ready. Ready for the greatest sacrifice.

“To be a Hue Runner is to lay down your life,” the Hue Master continued to wheeze, spreading out hands over the gathered crowd.

With a flourish of robes and cracked hands he bid us turn round.

“Behold! Citizens of Raven’s Point! The rising force, the dawning light! Here, behold, the future Hue Runners!”

-M.E. InkOwl

The Hue Runner: Bold We Are

Slip of foot and tilt of rock,

Break of sweat and pound of blood.

Hear our voices raised in dread,

For the beast will soon be fed.

Wipe the canvas,

Spatter paint.

Color bold and do not faint,

The road will tumble on.

Wield the brush and twist the hand,

Till our freedom’s bought again.

Call the horn,

Set a pace.

The hue is running onward.

-M.E. InkOwl