Almárëa

1

              The Child

They came in the night, the Raiders, pillaging and burning throughout the whole village, taking only a few women and children prisoner, leaving the village a smoldering ruin and feast for scavenger birds such as crows and vultures.

In one of the houses that was lucky to not have burnt down, a child hid in the wall, her eyes swimming in tears as she watched her dying mother suffer from fatal wounds.

She watched her already dead stepfather , his blood and entrails spilling out of him.

She heard the cries of pain and agony from outside the house of those that were left for dead.

She'd been asleep in her bed on the loft  when the Raiders arrived. Most of the village were asleep.
The attack had come unexpected and the chaos and devastation left in its wake was unimaginable.

Her mother had urged her to hide and she did so quickly and that was  when men barged into the house, cutting down her mother and stepfather who had tried to fight back.

The men have searched the house and the girl had been afraid that they will find her.

They took everything they could get their hands on and left after a while.

The child stood behind the loose wall panel long after her mother breathed her last and long after the cries from outside had died down.

Then she slowly removed the panel and stepped out of the wall, her eyes brimming with tears at the sight of her mother and stepfather.

They had been good to her. They'd loved her with everything in them and she'd loved them back the same.

She fell on her knees beside her mother's rapidly cooling form, ignoring the thick red blood seeping into the knees of her pants, a cry of anguish leaving her full pink lips.

Her mother's grey eyes stared lifeless up at the roof of the house and no words came from her forever silent lips to comfort the girl child.

Tears dripped from the child onto her deathly pale face and into those now forever sightless eyes.

For however long she cried, the child did not know, but eventually she stood on shaky legs and searched the house for whatever the men didn't take, which was not much.

They left no food and none of her stepfather's ginger and apple wine that he'd made especially because her mother loved it so.

She walked through the small house finding linen sheets that her mother had embroidered on the edges with little songbirds.

These sheets, the child knew, will be better off used to cover the dead with now. She had no use for them otherwise.

Behind another false panel in the wall, the child pulled open a wooden chest, hidden there by her mother years ago when she was little.

The chest was too heavy to lift, but it could be opened inside the space it resided in.

Inside were several things. Two journals, a map, two small pouches of gold, twin  daggers, a bow and quiver full of arrows, a heavy travel cloak, armour that will never in a million years fit the child , some jewelry, a rucksack and odds and ends that didn't make sense to her.

She picked up the rucksack and filled it with the journals, the map, one pouch of gold and a few jewelry pieces. The rest she didn't know what to do with, except bury it with the chest and all and maybe come back for it one day when she can.

She carried the rucksack to the front room before going back to the other room and getting the sheets.

She laid them out beside her mother and stepfather, furrowing her brows as she didn't know how she was going to get their heavy bodies onto the sheets.
She just can't leave them there to rot and be eaten by scavengers.