“WE’RE UNDER ATTACK!! WE’RE UNDER ATTACK!! WE’RE UNDER ATTACK!!”

Hearing this announcement, a half-asleep father springs into action. “Lauren! Wake up your brother!” he shouts to his still sleeping daughter. He then jumps out of his bed and runs towards a pile of clothes and blankets at a corner of the house. Flinging the blankets all over reveals a hidden chest locked by iron. Reaching around his neck, he takes off a key dangling from a cord and inserts it into the lock. Promptly turning the key, a click is heard as the iron lock unfastens itself. Removing the lock, the father flings the chest open with a thud and reaches in; grabbing a leather bag. He opens it and reveals an assortment of silver and bronze coins. Looking over his shoulder, he notices that his children are still asleep. His bearded face frowns as he parts his lips. “Lauren!! Paul!! Wake up!! We need to leave!!” he shouts at the top of his lungs.

The daughter and son flail their arms and legs in response. With disheveled chestnut hair reaching below her shoulders, a teenage girl stammers, “uuhhhh, what?” She looks around and rubs her eyes and asks, “What is happening?” as she tries to comprehend the blatant panic in and outside her house. Her brother, a young boy with a bowl cut, is no different as he sits there upright in his bed with his eyes still closed and mouth agape and yawning.

“GET DRESSED!” the bearded man orders as he throws respective clothes in his children’s faces. He goes to and picks up the machete resting next to the door frame. He grabs the sheath covering the blade, removes it, and inspects the condition of the machete. A couple of nicks here and there but after feeling the edge with his thumb; he gives a satisfying nod and places the tool back into its leather sheath.

Grabbing the clothes that she caught with her face, Lauren gets out of bed. She then proceeds to put on the clothes given to her; trousers and a tunic. Putting the trousers on she stares at her frantic father scurrying about the single-room house. Facing away from her father and younger brother, Lauren puts on the tunic and shuffles around to get the nightwear off under it with a curious expression. As she finishes changing, Lauren realizes something strange. That’s when she could hear the faint shouting. We’re under attack. Realizing this, she perks up and faces her father. She asks her still moving patriarch, “Dad. What’s happening?”

Not bothering to stop and look at his questioning daughter, “Help your brother get ready. We need to leave now,” he replies with urgency.

Feeling the tension in the air, Lauren complies with the demand. Going towards her brother, she smacks his face lightly and tells him, “Hey, Come on. Wake up. Dad said to get dressed.” The boy opens his eyes and hazily looks at his sister.

“Get dressed? Okay,” he tiredly answers back. Taking the clothes that were at his lap, he begins by putting on the shirt while still in bed. Yawning, he hops off his cot and proceeds to put his pants on. He then asks innocently, “Where are we going?” 

Done with his preparations, the bearded man hurls a burlap sack over his shoulder, fastens his machete to his waist, and answers truthfully, “The village is under a raid and we need to move to safety,” he responds looking at his son then daughter.

With her theories confirmed, Lauren widens her blue eyes and dives for her shoes. She quickly puts them on and then turns around towards her brother. “Paul, get your shoes on! We need to move!” She affirms the plan as she walks up to him and shakes his shoulders. Paul nods his head quickly and vigorously in agreement. He bends down and puts his leather shoes on and quickly tightens them. “Dad. What do we do now?” Lauren questions as she stares at her father for an answer. 

Meeting her eyes, her father stares back. “We are going to go to the woods for shelter,” he affirms while pointing out the window. Walking to the door and slightly opening it he adds, “We’ll have to avoid the main roads though,” while taking a peek. “The bandits are going to be looting, so it would be best to avoid them at all costs,” he states as he moves away from the door. Taking his children’s hands into his own, he locks eyes with both of them. “No matter what happens…” stopping midway in his sentence to give a hard stare at both of the children. “No matter what… don’t… don’t stop running… don’t stop for anything… okay?” he carefully articulates, alternating his gaze between his daughter and son. Feeling the weight of his words, Lauren and Paul nod their heads deeply as they maintain eye contact with their father. Smiling, the father caresses the cheeks of his kids before standing up. “You guys ready to go?” he asks. Affirming that they are with a nod, the family soon leaves their home to make their escape.

Leaving their house, they make way towards the alleyways between the homes of their neighbors and friends. Taking a left here. Making a right there. In the darkness that blankets the night, the children obediently follow their father as they stare at his back for reassurance. Though, this soon changes as the dark sky lit up with blotches of oranges and reds around them. Taking notice of the change of color, the daughter looks up. “What’s going on…?” she mummers to herself.  Soon, an intense heat starts to surround the family as grey starts to fill their vision as a burning pillar falls before them, crashing with a loud thud.

“They’re burning… our village?” the father asks himself as fire begins to block his path. Turning around towards his kids, he says to them, “We need to circle around the fires!” He grabs his daughter’s and son’s hands and holds them both in his. Giving them a stern look, he states, “Make sure you don’t lose each other.” He then places Paul’s hand into Lauren’s. Understanding her father’s gestures and words, she clenches. 

Motioning the siblings, the father leads them to the right while dodging the burning embers that begin to fill the air. As they continued to run, the heat in the air gradually got fiercer making their pits wet. Thick smoke envelopes the sky and hides the stars while the flames and fires around them light their way. Crashing, breaking, and screaming resound near and far. The clanging of steel meeting sprinkle the atmosphere. With the available paths dwindling, the father sees an open path to his upcoming left, but then notices that the path between the flaming homes was clear, but unsafe. Moving quickly in both mind and body, he makes the decision to lead his family through the fires and the flames as he dashes and makes the turn. He comes to an unexpected wall as he smacks his head and shuffles backwards eyes closed in confusion. The father hears grumbling before opening his eyes to come face to face with a single bandit holding his nose as he brandishes a rusty sword in the other. Instincts kicks him into fight mode, as he quickly throws his burlap sack at the bandit.

“The fuck?!” the bandit yells as he staggers backward. At that moment, the children’s father reaches for his machete, unsheathes it, and swings in one fluid motion. His target, on reflex, blocks the swing by positioning his sword horizontally in front of his face. The clashing of metal is heard before he shifts his grip to hold his blade with both hands and rams himself into the body of the raider.

Trying to push back the bandit, he yells to his kids, “Run! Get out of here!” as he struggles with his adversary. 

Hearing loud and clear—Lauren moves. Clenching her hand tighter than before, Lauren moves on her instincts and runs to whatever open passage. She drags the stunned Paul down their continued path for a few dozen meters as she hears the crackling cinders above them. Following in a daze, he snaps out of his stunned state. Paul stops his feet and forces his sister to halt. Feeling her arm being yanked, the older sibling looks at him and barks, “What are you doing?!”

Trying to shake out of his sister’s grasp, Paul yells back, “We can’t leave Dad! We need to go back! We have to help him!”

Her heart wrenches as she grits her teeth. “Dad told us to run! We need to run!” she reprimands him loudly. 

“No!! I’m not leaving him!” Paul yells as he breaks from his sister’s grasp. Freed from his keeper, the young boy immediately turns tail and starts sprinting through the flame-covered alleyway to aid his father.

“Paul!” She yells as she is left behind baffled. She hesitates for a brief moment before moving her feet, but by then it is already too late. The left wall of the burning alley collapses in front of her, blocking her off from her father and brother. “Kyaaaaaaaaaaaaaakk!” she screams as burning splinters fall in front of her—the embers scorching small holes in her skirt. She stares at the raging blaze, feeling its heat with her eyes, trying to see past them in hopes that she can see something. Anything. Anything to let her know that her family is okay.

Fear starts to rise from the bottom of her heart as flame and fire rapidly fills her vision. Her thoughts are in a state of chaos and distress. Do I stay? Do I run? What about Paul? Dad? I need to keep Paul safe! I need to go get Paul! But what about the bandit that dad was holding off? Did Dad beat him back? What should I do?! What do I…? It’s hot! Way too hot! Realizing that the temperature is progressively getting higher, Lauren has to make a decision: Stay and possibly die in blistering heat or try to escape Norbury Village by herself. The dilemma made the now-alone girl clench her stomach with both of her hands. Oranges, yellows, and reds slowly inch their way towards Lauren as the seconds pass. Stay? Go? Stay or Go?? STAY OR GO?!?!? She agonizes over her two choices, weighing the importance of her own life against her family’s.

The scenery around is starting to collapse. The walls are beginning to crumble under their compromised foundations and in their places, curtains of oranges and reds; slowly barricading her inside a prison of heat. With the splintering and crashing of a building not too far from her, Lauren finally makes her move. She balls her hands forming fists, clenching them tightly. The young girl bites down on her bottom lip—enough to make it bleed—and moves her gaze past the torrid veil of fire and flame. “I’m… I’m… sorry…” she whispers as Lauren turns away and moves her feet towards the outskirts of the village as she remembers the words of her father—don’t stop running. Holding them within her heart, she puts strength into her legs as she continues onward to safety.

Having to make detours to dodge the passages barricaded off by flame and fire, Lauren comes to an area where the smoldering had died down a bit. Taking a brief rest, Lauren asks herself, “How do I get out of this village?” She looks around to see if there is anything recognizable, but nothing seems familiar. Aflame or ruined buildings, dead bodies, and a night sky so bright that it could be mistaken as day break. None of it was familiar. Realizing that nothing is how it once was, Lauren pauses to try and calm her ragged breathing and her rapidly beating heart. Straining her memory, Lauren tries to conjure up memories of the past in hopes that she can remember some sort of path that leads out of Norbury Village. Though, this proves to be in vain. The cheerful, pleasant memories of the past and the burning, bloody image of the present is creating a sense of dissonance and confusion within her; an unprecedented form of anxiety that she had never felt before. Shaking her head, she tells herself, “I just need to remember what Dad told me,” as she recites her father’s words silently—don’t stop running. Comforted, she then remembers what he had then told them while on the escape. Don’t lose each other. Lingering on those other sets of words made her heart cringe in pain. She glances at her open palm. Staring at the hand that was grasping her brother’s not too long ago, Lauren clenches it. “I should have held on tighter…” she berates herself as she agonizes over the thought.

Lost in thought and almost forgetting her situation, Lauren’s short respite ends abruptly. “Oh? Look what we have here, boys…” a voice emanates behind the tired teen. Frightened, she whips around to meet the gazes of 3 men.

“Surprised that we missed a girl. I thought we already rounded up all the young ones,” remarks one of the bandits, tipping his head to the left side.

“Someone must have fucked up then. Probably that prick Eric,” replies another as he brings his hand to stifle a yawn.

Conversing, the raiders drew nearer to Lauren, not letting her escape their sight. The man to the far right licks his lower lip, shows a slight smirk, and quizzically asks, “The clients won’t mind if one of the slaves is sullied? Right?”

“Ehhhh… don’t think we should. Boss told us that the people wanted as many virgin girls as possible,” remarks the raider to the far left.

Scanning Lauren with his eyes, the bandit in between the two reveals his teeth as he squints his eyes. He makes a statement that made her go into high alert. “Having our fun with one girl should be fine though. Not like we are gonna dick every slave,” he says unsheathing his sword.

Fear overcomes her after hearing the last sentiment stated by the bandits. Ignoring her exhaustion, Lauren goes into a sprint to the nearest clearing.

“Oohhhhh!! We have a runner, boys!! Ahahaha!!” yells the middle bandit with a vile cackle as he excitedly starts to chase after Lauren. His companions, look at each other then start to run too. They lag behind the first bandit with bright smiles on their faces, knowing that some of their stresses will be relieved tonight. Keeping pace and distance with their de-facto group leader, the pillagers lick their lips in anticipation of the “good time” they are about to have with Lauren.

The girl moves her legs with what little strength that she had left. Her head is pulsating and her vision is fuzzy. Sweat drips into her eye, but she doesn’t care for it. Dry mouth and throat, every breath the runaway took stings her lungs to no avail. Despite all this, Lauren continues to move. I NEED TO RUN! I NEED TO GET AWAY! Her thoughts echoing and resonating with every heavy step she took in her escape. Screeches of intense pain that tell her she needs to stop now, but Lauren ignores it. The simple, village girl ignores it all in order to keep one promise she has yet to break—don’t stop running. She alternates her sight—looking forward then looking back towards the men chasing her—as she tries to keep her chaotic breathing in check. She begins to feel something lurking in the pit of her stomach; feeling it stir around as she moves. The pulsating beats that rang her head were now waves of increasing pressure pounding on the very backs of her eyes.

Lauren makes her way towards the nearest alleyway, one that had finished burning and was now at a smoldering char. She runs into the niche space, feeling the surviving heat of the now-charcoal wood around on her skin; barely getting nipped and burned by the jutting out splinters. She runs with the same speed she has tried to maintain from her initial start, but she feels her strength draining from her legs and buckles right at the exit of the alley—her foot catching on the warm dirt beneath her.

She can feel herself falling. Her vision moves upward, catching a glimpse of what is in front of her—the outskirts of the village. Lauren had somehow managed to find her way through the blazing, impromptu maze, but fell just short of her destination. Pain fills her upper body as she hears the thumping of her body hitting the ground. Quickly looking behind to see where her pursuers are, Lauren is mortified from what she sees; one bandit not too far from her with the other two casually jogging to where she is—all with disgusting grins on their faces.

“Oh, poor thing. She tripped!” one sarcastically calls out.

“I hope she’s alright. Hehe,” the bandit next to him replies with a cackle.

Lauren’s heart feels like it is imploding in on itself—leaving a kind of void in its place—as she sees them so casually jog towards her. She desperately tries to get up, scurrying to her feet as she does. The disheveled-looking girl manages to run a couple of feet before her exhaustion makes her collapse again. Lethargy assails her and she feels her eyes grow heavy every time she falls, but she manages to stand again and again; desperate to not be caught and toyed with. Lauren manages to make her way towards the middle of a grass field untouched by the mass of fire before tripping on her face for the last and final time.

“Seems like she’s all tuckered out!” the leading pursuer yells out cheerfully as he gets to her first. The bandit slows down the closer he gets to the exhausted Lauren. He stops, bends over, and tries to grab one of Lauren’s ankles, but the moment that he tries to touch the prone-positioned girl; Lauren reacts as violently as she could to try and avoid the pillager’s grubby grasps.

“Let me go!! Let me go you brute!! Let me go!!” she yells as she desperately kicks and flails her legs with what little strength she has; trying to escape as she claws at the grass and dirt in a desperate attempt to escape.

“Ooohh, feisty!” remarks the man trying to handle her. “But, you really… need… to… know your place!” he gradually yells out as he grabs and yanks Lauren’s right ankle with his free hand.

“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!” Lauren yelps as she couldn’t resist the sudden tugging and flipping that the man did. He then starts to mount her as he tries to separate her legs apart with one of his hands. “Stop!! Stop!! Stop it!! Stop it!! Stop!! Stop it!!” Lauren screams repeatedly as she desperately tries to slap, scratch, punch, or anything to keep the man from doing anything further to her out of fear of what he would do.

Tired of all of the screaming and scratching, the bandit throws away the sword in his hand and subsequently swings the free and open palm directly across Lauren’s face; resulting in a large SMACK sound and a red hand-imprint. “You fucking SLUT!” he screams in her face. “If… you… don’t… stop… and… open… your… fucking… legs… I’ll… fucking… kill… YOU!!” he yells, spitting out saliva as he repeatedly slaps Lauren; the red mark on her cheek gradually darkening to a disgusting color with every successful hit.

She feels an intense and searing pain on her left cheek. Her eardrums feel like they are ringing and she feels dizzy. Lauren’s vision looks fuzzy due to the tears welling up in her eyes. She tries covering her face, but the bandit makes an effort to restrain her arms at once after delivering his blows. Despite her pain and exhaustion, despite her attacker on top of her, and despite the fact that her struggle’s futility; Lauren does not stop fighting against this ill-gotten fate that was handed to her.

“God FUCK!!” the pillager on top of Lauren exclaims as he swipes away her hands. The attacker then grips his victim’s neck and starts to squeeze. “BITCH WOULD BE BETTER OFF DEAD IF IT’S GONNA KEEP FIGHTING BACK!!”

Lauren feels the blood building in her forehead. She feels her throat constricting. Keeping her eyes wide open and bringing her hands to her neck to try to pull apart the vice, but the man is too strong. She starts thrashing her legs about in hopes that something, anything would get her killer off. The bandit though, is not having any of it and continues his hold as he gradually starts to put more strength into his fingers. Through her blurry vision, Lauren sees the person who wants her dead. A dirty, grimy face. Messy hair covered in dirt and muck. And hollow, empty eyes. She can see that his expression isn’t the happiest one. Scowling and baring his teeth muttering, “stupid bitch…” just as Lauren’s blurry vision begins to go hazy and dark.

Feeling as if the space around her is being constricted, Lauren's eyes begin to twitch. I can’t breathe! It hurts! Why is this happening to me? Is it because I lost Paul? Am I being punished? Do I deserve this? I feel so scared. Dad, where are you? I’m so scared… Dad… She opens her mouth to try and breathe in a desperate attempt to survive and persist, but no oxygen could pass through. She is feeling dizzy and her complexion does not look good. She is still desperately trying to get out of her killer’s grips and their current position, but the more she struggles—the tighter the vice around her neck gets. Lauren’s struggling is starting to settle down gradually as her consciousness begins to slip.

Am I… am I… am I… dying…? I… I… I… don’t want… don’t want… want… I DON’T WANT TO DIE!! I DON’T WANT TO DIE!! I DON’T WANT TO DIE!! I DON’T WANT TO DIE!! I DON’T WANT TO DIE!! I DON’T WANT TO DIE!! I DON’T WANT TO DIE!! I DON’T WANT TO DIE!! I DON’T WANT TO DIE!! I DON’T WANT TO DIE!! I DON’T WANT TO DIE!! I DON’T WANT TO DIE!!

This one thought repeats itself over and over again as Lauren begins to dive into the darkness. The face of the man choking the life out of her starts to fade and is now nothing more than a vague silhouette. Though, as if playing tricks on her eyes; she starts to see another silhouette behind the first. Except, this entity has two glowing red eyes that seem to emanate from a darkness untouched by light. This figure seems so much bigger than her. Standing over and looking down at her and her situation. She didn’t know where this person, or thing, came from and it confused her, making her lose her panic and putting Lauren into an odd state of clarity.

Why doesn’t he notice the ‘thing’ behind him? Doesn’t he know that it’s there? Why is it here? Is this ‘thing’ intelligent? Does it understand I am in pain? Do I need to call out to it? But then, what do I say? What do I say?

At death’s door, the girl is trying to find the right words to say. Nothing came to mind and it is starting to be tiring for her to think. She feels her mind becoming numb and everything looks very dark to her. What remained a constant through are those red, glowing eyes. If anything, those eyes started to shine brighter as soon as everything began to become darker for Lauren. It then dawns upon her. She knew what she should say to the figure, but her thoughts seemed to drift further and further away as time went on.

I… know… what… to… say… Mister… please…

“h-h-he-el-p… m—me-e-e…” she manages to leak from between her lips. Lauren believes that the silhouette didn’t hear her, but what the girl didn’t realize is that her pleas for help were heard as she heard her answer not too long after.

“Sure,” a gruff voice that sounded too calm—too casual—for the situation replied to her call. The figure then bends over and grabs the attacker by the scruff of his neck.

“What… the… h—??!!” says the bandit as he turns his head around to see who had grabbed him and is subsequently thrown just as he completely loosens his grip on Lauren’s neck, allowing the girl to take a large gasp of air. The man is launched back several meters away from his initial position. The bandit’s companions, who were lagging behind about a dozen or so meters behind, witnessed what had just happened to their ally: their friend running ahead of them to get the runaway, easily catching her, but just as they were a dozen meters away, he was blown back to their feet.

“What in the…?” exclaims one of the bandits just arriving at the scene.

“…Who is this other guy?” says the other as he notices the newcomer and surprise covers his face when he focuses his eyes to see what is hiding in the dark.

A man in black armor. Tall and lanky. He holds a round shield in his right hand—it has a skull that looks as if it were yawning on the face of it. On his shoulders lie a tattered-grey cowl. And on his hip, he brandishes a sheathed longsword with a skull-shaped pommel, a chained-up book, and various menacingly looking accessories. Though the most eye-catching item about this person is the beast he is mounted upon.

A pitch-black horse that seems to blend into the shadows and darkness surrounding them. It’s eyes glow with an eerie red; its gaze piercing the blanket of night. Fur covers its hooves and its mane and tail are long and flowing with a black-color. Body large and powerful, it’s muscles clearly defined even with insufficient light.

Keeping a careful eye on the armored man, the bandits help their fallen de-facto leader up while they unsheathe their weapons. Being helped up, the pillager makes a quiet comment to his group to keep their guard up. “that guy… we gotta be careful…” he states as one of his companions hands off him an extra weapon. Seeing that the bandits have armed and readied themselves. The black warrior jumps off his horse. And stares down the three pillagers.

Lauren is currently on her side holding her neck delicately as she is coughing and taking in sharp inhales and audible exhales. She feels exhausted and can’t really move, but she manages to move her eyes just enough to see a hazy visage, before closing them.  All that fear, panic, and exhaustion begins to dissipate as she lets her tiredness take over. The grass feels cool and nice opposed to the blazing heat she had felt all night. “Huu, huu…” she silently mutters as she finally lets her consciousness go.

The black warrior looks down towards the victim he has just saved. He diverts his gaze away from her and directs it beyond the three men—the raging fires. “Very obvious to me that you are the bad ones here,” furrowing his brow under his helm as he makes his statement. He rotates his shoulders and cracks his neck with his hands. This action puts his adversaries on edge, making them fan out to gradually surround him on 3 sides. Seeing this, the black warrior responds by reaching for the sheathed sword at his side, he analyzes the men around him through the visor of his helmet. He brings his sword-in-hand to his side and lets it rest there. He turns his head slightly to the right and rotates his sword-hand a couple of times. “Alright… let’s start,” he comments as he quickly dashes to his right before the bandits could finish their formation.

Taken by surprise, the targeted assailant raises his hand axe and swings it down towards the rushing warrior. Seeing this, he parries the axe making the bandit’s swing hit the ground. Taking this opportune moment, the warrior swings his sword diagonally down; slicing his opponent’s chest open spilling innards and organs. Blood sprays from the wound, partially covering the warrior and the surrounding area.

“That’s one…” whispers the warrior after he follows through with his slash and repositions his stance. He shifts his gaze towards the other two. Noticing that they are more alert and on-guard than ever after witnessing the death of their party member, they keep their distance and have a defensive stance. “Oh? Smart choice in being defensive, but that’s not going to help you,” he says before sprinting at the next nearest bandit. The warrior arrives in front of him in a split-second and proceeds to swing his sword diagonally upwards to strike at his foe. The bandit in question readies himself to guard the blow. The strike clashes with the bandit’s sword, creating a loud clanging noise and making him go up slightly and causing his hands go numb from the intense vibration. The warrior swings once more, twice more, thrice more. He keeps swinging with increasing strength and speed until the bandit loses his grip on his weapon—sending it flying away. Left defenseless, his head is then subsequently split open by a vicious, downward slash. “And that is two…” The last assailant is left in disbelief. In less than a minute, a single man had dispatched two men in quick succession with very little effort as he stood there watching. The unknown warrior, after flicking the blood off his sword, starts to walk towards the remaining bandit. “…And you’re the last one here…”

Quaking in place, the attacker screams, “Oh fuck this!!” as he abandons his weapon on the ground and starts to run in the opposite direction of the unknown knight.

“Oh? We got a runner… great,” the warrior states as he watches the coward run away. Reaching for the chained book on his hip, he places his hand upon it. The book begins to emit a ghostly green between its pages, levitates into the air, and finally opens up to reveal its writing emitting a ghastly light. “…Teleport…” he chants briefly. Soon after, his figure blends and fades away into the dark background. At the next moment, the warrior—in the same manner that he disappeared moments earlier—reappears in front of the fleeing pillager.

“Oh wha—?!” he gasps before the black-covered warrior plunges his sword into the man’s abdomen, skewering him. A bloody sword blade can be seen coming out of the bandit’s back as the warrior draws his sword out of his newly acquired sheath.

Shock, confusion, and awe can be seen on his face as he spurts blood from his mouth. “H-h-how…?” he asks with a pain filled voice. The bandit couldn’t understand how he suddenly appeared in front of him as he clutched the sword wound located in his abdomen. The man in question shrugs his shoulders and gives a simple reply.

“7th level Magic.”

“Y-yo-you’re a mage?” the bandit’s eyes shake as he struggles to get his last question out amongst his incessant, bloody coughing as he falls to his knees and eventually to his side.

“Who knows,” he replies as he stares down at the dying pillager. Not wanting to pay any more attention to the dying man, the black warrior turns and walks away, heading towards the victim on the ground. Once arriving, he notices that she is out cold and proceeds to kneel down to inspect her. What sticks out to him is the large bruise forming on the girl’s face and the visible hand marks on her neck. Other than that, it seems that the girl herself doesn’t seem to have too much physical harm. He picks her up by the belt and motions for the pitch-black horse to come to him. After a brief trot, the stallion arrives and the warrior places the sleeping girl on its back. “Nightingale…” he addresses his companion, “keep her alive. We’ll probably be needing her later.” In response the black stallion bobs its head in agreement. After securing the girl to the horse, the warrior moves his gaze away and looks towards the village. Sword still equipped; he moves his free hand to the back of his neck to ease the crick he feels. “I feel like… this is going to be a long night…” he states to himself as he walks into the smoldering village preparing himself for the “clean-up” to come.