slug

I am continuing a story I began a few days ago (this is part four). _{You can find parts one and two and three if you are interested}

And it was that easy for Marie and Chip. To just forget France and move on.

Perhaps, I was being unfair.

After all, I knew that sitting on the floor crying wasn't going to bring France back. And I knew that she would want us to carry on.

"We've got a job to do," she said, before stepping through the portal. "Let's get on with it."

Her last words to the group. Her last words to me.

"Come on, then," I said straightening up. "Let's go and find Slug."

Chip slapped me on the shoulder, a friendly gesture that almost knocked me back onto my arse. "Good lad," he said. "You know that's what she worked for."

I nodded, and Marie gave me a quick hug, took my arm and we both followed Chip out of the room. Outside, it was quiet. It was dark here, early morning or late at night, I wasn't sure. Chip seemed to know where he was going, he didn't even consult the device he held loosely in his dinner plate hand.

...

As usual I started with the freewrite prompt and used themostdangerouswritingapp.com to write the first five minutes (and then popped it into google docs to check for errors and tidy it up a bit):