A cold night, illuminated by the eerily large moon that’s hanging in the sky, a pair of shadows flickering through the luscious forest, swaying through the trees, followed by an even larger group of shadows, a suffocating bloodlust fills the air, even animals don't dare make a noise for fear of death.
'We are almost there, just a few more kilometres.' - Man
'Thank god, let’s just hope we can make it.' - Woman
'We will, we have to.' - Man
The pair obviously running away from the larger group, evident from the large cut from the bottom of his armpit, reaching all the way to the top of the man’s hip, deep to the bone; he’s has to use his hands to keep his own innards from falling out.
Not faring any better the woman is missing her right arm from the bottom of the shoulder down; her bone’s hanging out after the flesh was shaved away, along with various other gashes she’s sporting; however the pair’s so injured death’s inevitable.
In that condition it's not surprising to see the larger group steadily catching up, more surprising to see the pair running at all really.
'You were lucky to survive the ambush, but you won't escape’, ‘boys on my signal.' - Leader of the group
The group of shadows slow momentarily, only to speed up again but now each one of them with an arrow nocked, their bows drawn.
The group is only a few dozen metres away, all ready to unleash a torrent, a flood of arrows at the couple.
'Why do all this? What have we done to you?' - Woman
'You've got a hefty bounty on your heads, and by the looks of it you're easy pickings.' - Leader of the group
'You criminals, you're nothing but thugs, a bunch of bandits, how dare you do this.' - Man
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'You're the ones with a bounty on your heads, fire.' - Leader of the group
Whoosh.
The arrows fly out, with nowhere to go the couple both grimace and fling into each other’s embrace, both crying but glad, glad that at least they can comfort each other into the afterlife.
The pair stop fleeing, briefly glancing at their killers before gazing deep into each other’s eyes, sharing the last of their fleeting life together .
Two shadows fall, covered in blood, riddled with arrows, the man dead and the woman gasping for air.
The leader of the group walks up to the woman, sword held high, 'it's over'.
'Wa...it’ the woman struggles as she points to a basket ‘Plea...se, let my, my ba...by live.'
'And why should I spare this baby and let it live?' - Leader of the group
'He, he will be stro...ng, the stron…ges…t.' the woman declares as her life whittles away to nothing.
For some reason what this woman whispers gives him goose bumps, an odd sensation between excitement and nervousness, he could feel some truth from her gaze. The leader lowers his sword and leans down, peeling back the cloth covering the basket, only to find a small baby. With seemingly ordinary looks and an average build, it wouldn’t be worth it for him to raise it, yet the baby radiates a special aura, the aura of one whose life beholds a great destiny, an aura enough to make the leader adopt it. The leader picks him up and starts to walk away; after a few steps he turns around and nods, in some strange way, he tries to console the dead mother’s spirit. The leader shifts his gaze upwards and yells ‘a job done without casualties, boys tonight we party’.