Ash and Blood
Smoke devoured the sky.
The night was supposed to be silent, save for the wind sighing through the trees and the hush of sleeping houses. Instead, it roared with flames.
Screams cut through the dark.
"Please! No!"
A man fell to his knees, blood gushing from his mouth as a soldier pulled a sword free of his gut. Another woman was dragged by the hair, kicking, sobbing. Children ran before being cut down from behind.
Houses crackled as they burned, thatch collapsing in showers of sparks.
In the chaos, two children hid beneath a toppled cart.
---
The boy clutched his sister's hand so hard her fingers went numb. He was shaking so violently he couldn't keep quiet; sobs broke through the way water spills through cracked wood.
"Hush," she breathed, voice raw. "Please. Don't let them hear us."
They were both covered in soot, faces streaked with tears. Firelight flickered off their wide eyes.
Outside, a soldier was laughing.
> "Get her inside. I want my turn."
A woman's shriek was smothered.
The boy squeezed his eyes shut. He tried to block it out. But he could still hear everything.
---
Their father had shoved them under the cart moments before.
> "Don't move. Don't speak. When you can, run."
He'd kissed their mother once—desperate, final.
> "Stay with them. No matter what."
Then he turned to face the soldiers rushing up the path, screaming for them to look at him instead.
---
The children watched through the cart's slats as their father swung his old axe once before a spear took him through the ribs.
He made a sound like a dying animal, blood bubbling on his lips. He crumpled.
Mother didn't even scream. She just ran at them, knife in hand. They hacked her down in seconds.
Blood pooled in the dirt.
---
The boy whimpered. His sister clamped her dirty hand over his mouth.
Her face twisted in silent anguish, tears streaking paths through the ash. But she didn't make a sound.
"Don't move," she mouthed again, though her voice was cracking.
They lay there, shaking. The heat from the burning houses scorched their skin.
---
A group of soldiers stomped past, boots crunching bloodied straw. One paused to light a torch off a nearby fire, his face shadowed and cruel.
> "Leave none alive. We don't want survivors telling stories."
He spat on a corpse and moved on.
---
Finally, there was a moment—just a breath—of quiet.
The sister moved first. She yanked the boy's arm.
"Come on. Now."
He couldn't move at first. He felt frozen, eyes locked on his parents' bodies.
"MOVE!"
She dragged him out, stumbling. He fell in the mud, his hand landing in something wet. He didn't dare look at what it was.
---
They ran.
Through burning alleys. Over corpses. Past women sobbing in the dirt.
A man lunged at them from the smoke—wild-eyed, blood on his face. For one heart-stopping moment they thought he was an enemy, but he fell dead at their feet with an arrow in his back.
They kept running.
---
They reached the wooden palisade at the edge of the village.
"Over," she ordered, voice shaking but firm.
He couldn't even speak. He clawed at the rough wood, legs numb. She pushed him up and over. He fell on the other side, hard, and lay there gasping.
She vaulted after him, landing beside him with a grunt.
---
Shouts behind them.
"THERE! THERE THEY GO!"
Arrows whistled past. One thudded into the palisade inches from his head.
They scrambled to their feet, plunging into the dark forest.
Branches whipped their faces. Brambles cut their legs. They didn't care.
They just ran.
---
When they finally collapsed, they were deep in the trees, where the glow of the burning village was just an orange smudge against the night.
The boy fell to his knees, retching. Tears streamed down his cheeks unchecked.
He tried to speak.
"M-Mama… Papa…"
But it was just a broken whisper.
His sister dropped beside him. She wrapped her arms around him, pressing his head into her shoulder.
"Don't look back," she choked out. "They wanted us to live. So we live. You hear me?"
He sobbed until he couldn't breathe.
She held him tight, her own face buried in his hair.
The wind howled through the trees, carrying with it the smell of ash and blood.
And behind them, the village burned.
---
They stayed there until dawn, shivering and alone.
Learning that the world had no mercy.
---