Sheep in Wolf's Clothing
by: Lexicon

My mother and I were there to witness it all that day.

Witness…that was all we could do. We weren't able to do anything to save him. We didn't try to go and rescue him as they came and dismembered him in the most barbaric way possible, a way I hadn't even imagined once in my life.

And when it was happening right in front of me, I couldn't summon the courage to go and stop them…

That day, my mother held me as we hid in the shadows, helpless to do anything but watch.

She covered my ears with her shaking hands, wishing to block out the cries of agony and the jovial shouts of those monsters who were causing those cries. She covered my ears, wishing to block out the sounds of flesh ripping and of bones cracking and of blood being spilled.

She pressed my face into her heaving breast, wishing to eliminate the smell of that copper liquid by letting me inhale her scent—the fresh smell of the fens, of home.

She wished to block out the terrifying sounds, tried to will away the horrible smell, but all she did was cushion the blow. The sounds were only barely muffled, and the scent of spilt blood was too strong for my sensitive nose to ignore.

After a period of time that felt like hours passed, the cruelty finally stopped. They had finally gotten bored of their little plaything—a dead body. They left, laughing and shouting, "Another monster killed! King Healfdene will be pleased!"

As their footsteps faded away, my mother and I were left still shaking in the darkness of the cave we were hiding in. She sobbed as her hand gently stroked the top of my head, but stayed cautious not to make a sound, too afraid that she would call their attention back to this place.

I turned my head to look at the entrance of the cave. The scene was painfully vivid. Some paces off, basked in the bright light of the moon, was a mangled corpse, barely recognizable.

My hands tightened their grip on my mother's cloaked arms and I looked away, not being able to stand the sight anymore. I leaned my face into her bosom and wailed. My voice at that moment frightened me. I sounded like an animal. I sounded inhuman.

But I'm not the inhuman one, I thought bitterly. They are. The men of Healfdene.

The men who killed my father.