𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚍𝚘𝚠 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚗 | 𝑡. 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑡𝑜 𝑥 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚞𝚎

THE WARRIOR glanced with narrowed eyes onto the nightly valley. Like a black ribbon writhed the river through the hilly landscape. Near the shore protruded dark reed from the water, black and mute like the battle series of a distant army. His eyes stuck on a campfire. Sparks whisked up and flew through the darkness. Tiny glowing dots that went out in hundreds immediately afterwards. In front of the fire crouched a petite figure, a cloak protective hanging around the shoulders. He had found her. Finally. He didn't know her name. Only her crime. She had murdered his father. She would pay for that.
The howl of a wolf brought the night to life. His horse tugged uneasy at the rein. He gripped the bridle tighter. The animal calmed instantly. He pulled the hood deep into his face, swung himself into the saddle and rode down the hill. The young woman lifted her head. The moment she saw him, she stood up and began running for her life. Already after a few meters she recognized that there was no escaping. She hit a hook and fled into the water. Without haste he slid out of the saddle. A whispered command, then his horse trotted away to the nearby trees.
He wanted to grab his sword, but changed his mind. His father died through the blade of a dagger. A dagger should also put an end to her life now. Determined he took out the weapon and followed her into the water. He caught up to her, grabbed her arm and jerked her around. She screamed for help and tried to get on land, but her blocked her way and pushed her back into the water. He could have rammed the blade into her chest, but he didn't want to. She should die slowly. Agonizing like his father. He took a swing and thrust his fist against her temple. Unbelief showed in her expression. Her eyes clouded. His next hit stole her consciousness. Before she sank in the water, he reached for her and prevented the stream from carrying her away.
Even before a moment the night was full of life, filled with the screams of the girl. Now it was silent. Only the quite lapping of the water and his own breath could be heard. The stillness of the approaching death had sunk over the land. He was death.
From the shore voices suddenly grew loud. Like giant fireflies danced the light of lanters and torches through the night. Humans got closer, laughing and chatting. Traveling people. He had no time, if he didn't want to be seen. He pulled her up and laid the blade on her neck. When he wanted to glide the cutting edge over her throat, the stream captured her in its grasp, snatching her from his grip. He made no attempt to catch her. She would be drowned, long before the storytellers could fish her out of the water. If they found her at all.
He dived silently into the floods and let himself drift away with the stream. Even though he has completed his revenge, he still felt dead and empty.