"No! No! Oh God! Merciful Goddess above!" The farmer saw several black shadows on the horizon, almost scared out of his wits.
A group of bandits, riding poor horses and brandishing war axes and longbows, charged towards the family in the middle of the road.
"Run! Run!" The farmer instinctively signaled for his family to escape: "I'll hold them off! Run!"
"What nonsense are you talking about! You're the only labor here; this family can live without me, but not without you!" The farmer's father, the boy's grandfather, picked up a pitchfork, his old face full of resolve: "You all run!"
"Quick!!!" With that, the old man charged straight towards the direction of the bandits.
The two children stood there dazed, too young to comprehend what was happening.
"Grand... Grandpa?" The boy stood frozen, staring at his grandfather's back: "Grand... Grandpa?"
