Tragedy Strikes

PART 1 1

She cried into the night. Wind rushing in wild torrents around her, whipping her autumn red hair over her tortured skin. Every movement, every touch is agony over her raw flesh. Strips of skin hang off her back, but still she runs. Runs only because the terror welling inside of her threatens to drown her in it's midst, and she is too tired to stop. 2

Words echo through her mind. Lost deep in it's crevices she cannot tell what is now and what was then. Soft lullabies, screams, dancing . . . all so realistic, but all so confused.3

Horses hooves dig into deep earth, hollow in the night's silence. No owls hoot, no wind caresses the trees, just feet, and hooves.4

clackity clack . . . clack clackity clack . . . 5

Boom boom. boom boom.6

Screams! They fill the air. Smoke clogs her throat, and she is thrown into a fit of coughing, stumbling, falling to the ground. Her water-blue eyes look up in terror as the horse stops in front of her, it's rider dismounting.7

Another sound fills her ears - her heart thudding dully against it's cage. She sobs, crawling from the man on her hands and knees. Thorns stabbing into her hands, the rough ground tearing her soft cotton dress even more.8

The riders face . . . frightening. It's hidden in the dark shadows of his hat, and the scarce light that manages to pierce the darkness dances on the angles, making him appear shifted and misshapen. Words . . . he speaks, but she cannot understand him, the sounds from his lips are garbled and confused. She looks up at him with tears bleeding from her eyes . . . she cannot understand him, but she knows what men do to women in raids.9

Light glints over metal etchings. The knife at his waist, she realises. Her eyes drink in the sight with a passionate flame, as his hand reaches down to her.10

She jumps, and grabs the dagger, sliding it from its sheath. She backs away, the burns over her back agonizing with the strain of her muscles, causing the raw sores to bleed fresh.11

He blinks, quickly taking out his sword. More nonsense comes from his mouth. Will he slice her tendons so she cannot move, she wonders? Will he just kill her? That would be to much to hope for.12

Before he can move, she closes her eyes, plunging the dagger through her heart. The pain of the metal dulls before she can feel it, and with a blood-speckled cough, she laughs, her thoughts only that she will take her dignity to the grave.13

PART 2 14

Thirty minutes later the man walks into his village, leading his horse, and carrying the lovely young maiden in his arms. Blood has clotted and dried around her wound, her skin sticky with the life blood, her clothing stained. 15

Open tears run down his face as villagers surround him, asking questions. His eyes go to the beautiful dark-haired woman off to the side, her brown eyes confused and curious.16

In his tongue he speaks to the people. Telling how he came across this young woman running through the forest, and followed her. How once she stopped he dismounted and asked if he could take her to a healer, but she had not listened, and had struck herself down with his hunting dagger.17

The villagers murmur dimly, and he takes the body to the burial chambers. Knowing he should honor her with a ceremony, he lies her on the stone slab, and kneels, chanting to the gods to protect her spirit.18

The dark haired woman enters, and kneels, chanting with him. Their hands snake towards each other, and grip tightly, as the melodious chants fill the scented chambers.19