I sat upon a broad hill, covered with yellowed, dried grass. I overlookced many other such hills, and though I could not see it, my village nestled in a valley nearby.
The year had been interminable, day after day of blazing skies. Today, though, the coulds gathered heavy in the sky and rain seemed at last possible.
I was alone, with only my wolf dog for a companion. I had been sent out to guard the village from intruders. A fanciful task, meant to merely give me an excuse to go out. Intruders had not come for many years and were not expected. I had proudly accepted the task anyway, buckled on my small sword, taken my dog, put on my clean blue tunic and gone to sit watch. I sighed as the rain began to fall, tiny drops at first, and then larger ones, coming down in sheets. I leaned my head back to better catch the drops as they fell.
I must have fallen asleep, for the next thing I felt was a cold blade at my throat and a rough voice in my ear. I knew who these were. I had been sent to watch for them, in particular. They were the bands of men who killed for pleasure. They were dressed in red. The leader cut my sword belt, leaving me no weapon. The men circled closer, taking the sword and nicking me, one small wound after another. Blood dripped, over my tunic, over my skin, dripped onto the grass and staining it red.
The leader broke off and slowly, in my sight, slit the throat of my faithful dog, who had been doing his best to help me. I watched as his blood made a pool beside mine. The leader laughed wildly and in a break, I lunged at him. Instead of offering me a quick death, the leader forced my mouth open and plunged his sword down my throat. It was curious, but I felt no pain. Only a sort of dullness, a sort of apathy. I tasted iron, from both the blade and my own blood. I choked on it, coughing and falling to my knees. The leader pulled his sword out and sheathed it in my heart. I felt drowsy, almost pleasant. My mind clouded over with blackness.
