1 It Takes a Village

Fires leapt high into the night sky, voices crying out loudly, cutting off as quickly as they were started. Doors were kicked in, old wood splintering easily under force and anger.

For many in the village, it was terrifying, their thoughts latching onto the horror and pain that was derived from questions they had no answers to.

"Where is the child?!" They would ask, eyes glowing with an eerie bright blue. "Where is it?!"

As they asked and throttled and screamed and killed, in a small house near the other end of the start of the village, where the toiled land turned into wild thrush then into thick trees, was a woman and a young child, a baby really. She was frantic, packing a small bag with essentials, blankets and the like.

The woman would check the windows constantly, fear growing at seeing the flames burn ever closer to her home. She would shush the child, rocking from side to side to soothe the babe.

The flames are much too close, she would think, ever erratic in her movements as she crept from the back into the woods. They are much too close to her...

"Man, hurry up!" A male voice, irritated and tinged with slight fear, drew the woman's attention. It was a small man, slender with shaggy brown hair and clothes that had him blending easily into the forested background. "Don' know what they're here for, but we have got to go!"

She didn't think - she only acted.

"Wait, please!" The large man the smaller one spoke to turned to her, his eyes soft and the muscles easily highlighted by the ever growing fire that roared dangerously close. "Please, I must ask a favor of you."

"Lady, we ain' interested in no favor from ya." Up close, the smaller man had bright blue eyes, jumping out from his dark skin. His scowl spoke of his thoughts, antsy in his want to escape the massacre going on in the village. "Besides that, you shouldn' be needin' no favor from us with all of that goin' on."

The larger man sent a sharp look to his companion, successfully quieting his words into unintelligible mumbled. He looked back at the woman.

"Please, take her far away from here." She presented the child as if she was a holy gift, the babe quiet and curious as she stared up at the stranger before her. "She can't be found, not tonight."

"We ain' takin' no baby from ya! We don' need that kind of burden!"

More screams echoed, angry shouting becoming clearer as the men marched ever closer to where the four of them were hidden from sight.

She didn't have the time for all this. She scowled at the small man, saying "you are heroes, are you not?"

The men looked at each other, surprised. "Wait, how did ya know?" The smaller one, the one that seemed to speak for the two of them, crossed his arms, one hand straying close to the sword strapped to his hip. "We ain' heroes anymore, lady."

"It doesn't matter," the reply was full of sadness. "But you are heroes, and that is what my daughter needs. You have to be her heroes."

"Lady-"

She shoved the child into his arms, not giving him any more time to speak. "I will give you time to escape, but that is all I can do for you."

The mother looked down at the child, her eyes mournful. With one final caress to the child's face, the woman turned and fled into the fire.

She sent a silent prayer to the gods, to protect her child, for she could no longer do so.

The small man wanted to run after her, but was stopped by his companion. He scowled up at him. "You know what we did - this ain' gonna fix it."

The baby girl started to cry, ever so softly. They didn't rise in volume like a normal child that was upset - it seemed like she was asking a question that she didn't have the words too yet.

The large man sighed, picking up his companion and the child he carried, placing them onto his shoulder. "We don't have a choice, Morweign."

Morweign scoffed, cradling the child close as he hunched himself over her, as if he could protect her from the screams of the villagers that he himself could do nothing for. "Guess we don't. Let's go."

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The report was dismal - another village barren of any baby girls born under the blood moon. As was protocol, everyone was beheaded or left for dead, the homes burned to ash and the livestock freed into the wild.

There was one report of a sorceress who used the fires the men started to try and fight back, to give other villagers a way to flee. She was powerful, and the surviving soldiers speculated that she had been one of the missing wives, but well, she didn't look anything like her now did she?

Regardless, the captain had reported that she was quickly subdued and beheaded, quite aggravated at not finding his original goal given to him by the King himself.

The sorceress was a minor bump in the road, so to speak, as that was the last village they had searched for the week.

The next month it would all start again.

The next month it would be useless.