[FANTASY] Prologue critique, please :)

Length: ~800
Draft: First/rough -- unedited
Known Issues: This hasn't gone through my spellchecker yet (not through laziness--I'm just trying to shut away my inner-editor at the moment, lol). Also, I'm aware there are no periods/full-stops after Mr/Mrs -- I'm British.
Critique Requested: Anything you like.
Critique Tolerance: I can take it.

Prologue

They ran for their lives.

Their feet pounded the streets louder than the heavy rain that drenched them through to the bone. Their hearts beat a rhythm to match their footfalls, and their chests laboured under the pressure to draw in air. In their arms they each clutched a small, screaming bundle.

The growling did not grow faint the further and quicker they ran. It echoed all around them.

Turning sharply into a dark alley, they slumped against the moist red-brick wall and gazed at each other, breathless. It was the man who spoke first. Pain and fear shone so starkly from his eyes that the woman almost wished for the mercy of death.

"We can't outrun them."

"I know." Her response was a whisper, carried away by the howling wind, smothered by the screams emitting from the mass of blankets they each held to their chests. The man did not struggle to hear her: in his mind, her voice rang loud and clear. "What shall we do?" she asked, her expression pleading. "The babies ..." Her voice broke. A sob escaped her as she gazed down at the child she cradled.

The man did not look at either baby. He swallowed. When he next spoke, his voice was firmer, a tremble defying his resolute tone. "They'll not be in danger for another sixteen years. We can hide them. They'll be safe for now."

The growling grew louder still, now accompanied by the thunderous sounds of marching: an army on a murderous mission. The marching was not hurried; it had no reason to be.

The woman's eyes were stretched wide. For the moment she paid no mind to the approaching enemy. "You're not saying we should . . . we can't—we can't leave them!"

"So we sacrifice them?" The man regretted his harsh words as soon as they passed his lips. With his spare hand he reached out and cupped his wife's cheek; his thumb brushed her trembling bottom lip. When he continued, his voice losing its sharp edge, it was not with his mouth that he spoke. The words floated into the woman's mind as if she had thought them herself. "We have no other choice. They're growing nearer--they're playing with us. We're out-numbered. We must act now, while we still have a chance! If they see we have children ... our babies ... there'll be no hope for them."

"We can go somewhere crowded--lots of people--they won't--"

"Of course they will! What do they care? Human laws do not apply for them, you know this!" He released her face, and now used both hands to pull the child closer to his chest. "We've been hunted too long. It's time."

The woman stepped forward. She brought both babies closer together, and rested her forehead against her husband's. Her voice cracked with unshed tears. "It's not right."

"No, it isn't," said the man, and for the first time he allowed his pain to resonate in every syllable. "But it's necessary."

*

Mrs Mathews gave in to the insistent knocking and opened her front door, only to discover two unaccompanied babies on her step. She didn't know whether to laugh or panic. The situation was just so incredulous--the sort of thing that only happened in TV movies. The babies were tiny, perhaps not even a year old, and rain poured down on them so ferociously it was a wonder they were not blue with death.

She scanned the dark street for a clue to how these babies came to be on her doorstep. There was nothing to see.

Pulling herself together, she gathered the babies in her arms and headed back into her warm home. She paused under the porch light to have a quick look at them. They were wide awake; two pairs of matching bright blue eyes stared at her in wonder. Mrs Mathews smiled at them while considering her plan of action. She would first get them dry and warm, and then have a think about who she should call. The police? Social Services? It wasn't as if she had ever made plans for such an event. It was a shame her husband was on the night shift. He would have taken charge. Mrs Mathews hoped he would have the chance to meet the babies before they were taken away.

Such tiny things, abandoned. And they were so beautiful . . .

She had almost shut the front door behind her when she heard it: a chilling, terrified scream tore through the wind and rain, setting the hairs on the back of Mrs Mathews' neck on end. She felt a shudder travel down her spine, goosebumps errupting on her forearms, but she shook it off.

She had more important things to worry about.

Urgh. It's so weird formatting like that after training myself to do the whole indent & double-space thing, lol. Anyway, I'd appreciate any and all comments. :)
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