They were the only ones, the last ones standing on the face of the planet. All around them was gloom and ashes. Fire danced on top of mountains of ash that were once great structures. The sky was overcast, a stretch of gray, dark clouds. All that was gained was burned away, now a thin black powder scattered across the broken ground. All around the last ones standing, groans emanated from the burning wood and from the small fires that never went out.
The two young brothers were the very last living beings on earth, huddled together in front of the tree which shaded them from the unkind darkness. Rain fell and splattered around them, and still the tree protected them. Fire licked away at the ground, and still the two young men held on to each other. For three years they had survived this harsh, brutal environment, and they will survive for many more.
“I will never leave you. Never,” the older brother said to the younger brother.
“I know you won’t,” the younger brother replied. Experience granted them survival. The older brother’s skill in finding food brought them this far, and for many more years, it would continue that way. The older brother moved a wet gathering of hair from his younger brother’s eyes. Both their dirty faces continued to look at each other, their shoulders wrapped in the older brother’s coat. Thunder roared in the distance, and lightning forked down the sky, but the brothers didn’t even so much as flinch. Their eyes remained set on each other. No longer did they fear, no longer did they worry, no longer did they cry. They kept each other safe under one of the few surviving trees on earth. They had each other, and that’s all that mattered.