• It was night and the wind wailed. The caravan of travellers slowly wound its way down the mountain towards the small village at the heart of the snow-swept valley. The tall silhouette at the head of the caravan tilted its head to smell what lay before the weary group, but any smell that was there eluded it, carried away by the winds and snow of the blizzard. The silhouette barred its teeth in frustration and took off, pulling away from the caravan in a matter of strides.

    The child saw the strange lights bobbing down the mountain side from where she lay pinned to the ground, and she was afraid. Had the screaming painted people and their horses come back to further destroy her home? Or was this a new threat? Involuntarily, she began to shiver, but whether it was from the cold or the fear she knew not. Soon her shivering turned to agonizing sobs as she realised fully what had happened to her home and the people she knew. All was gone. All were gone. Nobody was going to come and lift the taverns heavy door from her. She was going to die tonight. That she was certain of. Already she could feel the cold eating away at her skin and hear the wolves and who knew what else gathering in the hills for the feast the village offered. The child could see the strange lights bobbing up the path to the burning ruins that were once her home. Slowly she became aware that smoke edging her vision wasn’t from the smouldering ruins but from inside her, she closed her eyes and accepted her fate gratefully. The cold had got her before the wolves had.

    The silhouette stopped at the foot of the mountain and tilted its head to better smell the confusion coming from the village. Wood smoke floated faintly in the air above the blizzard, and also the smell of meat roasting. The silhouette caught a more troubling scent, the scent of battle the smell of the painted people. Without hesitation the silhouette took off running towards the village, arriving no sooner than after breaking into a run. All was the aftermath of chaos. Doors hanging off their hinges, smoke curling out from the broken shutters. At the end of the villages’ main square a pile of bodies lay, arrows and spears sticking out of them like some warped pin cushion. More bodies lay in the streets, some villages, and some painted people. This village hadn’t gone down without a fight. But it had still been ravaged. No survivors. The wind changed then, and from the direction of the village tavern a soft whimpering could be hear.

    The silhouette followed its nose, it could smell something alive. Something that had been afraid recently, but had given way to the numbing cold. The silhouette slowly walked towards the taverns’ fallen door. As it approached it saw a small girl, hardly eight winters old, trapped. How long she had lain there, the silhouette did not know exactly, but she was practically blue beneath the fur garment’s this village typically wore. The girl twitched in her hypothermic slumber, opened her mouth and let out a chilling wail. The earth trembled with her soul. Slowly the silhouette lifted the door off the girl, and tenderly scooped her up in its arms. The silhouette straightened up, settled the girl against its torso, wrapped its travelling coat around itself tightly, stretched out and started running towards where the caravan was coming to the edge of the village.

    Before it reached the caravan a smell similar to the girls reached its nose, the silhouette changed course and followed it to where the body of a young woman lay in the street accompanied by someone who appeared to be her son. Clutched in the boys hand was a doll. The silhouette bent down to pick up the doll, and as he did so it realised the similarities of the pair to the girl curled against its torso. Family. The thought hit the silhouette with a force that made tears well up in its inhuman eyes. The silhouette tucked the doll in its coat pocket. It bent down again, to search the woman this time, found a few keep sakes for the girl tucked them in its pocket. It searched the boy again, found some sketches and charcoal pencils, and tucked them in its pocket as well. Straightened up again and took off running back to warn its people of the sad sight waiting to receive them.