The sword was too big and too heavy for him. Even so, the boy did not let go of the weapon.

He had no sheath, but even if he did, it wouldn’t have made any difference. All the boy could do was drag the sword with both hands, the tip of the blade leaving a thin trail on the ground behind him.

The boy himself had no idea why he didn’t want to let go of the sword. Because of the blood and rain, the metal was rusting. The edge was full of cracks and dents, a gift from the previous owner clashing blade against blade. Even the hand guard was ruined and protected nothing.

Even so, that sword was still a weapon.

Part of him said it had become only a useless piece of metal which barely served as a weapon anymore. Not the boy though.

Even if the blade was in ruins, it was still a sword, a weapon. It was something he could kill others if he had to.

As he dragged the blade through the battlefield, something blocked his path. The boy soon recognized the horse’s cadaver. The animal had been slashed in half and there were pecks and bite marks all over. Even though the meat was rotten, humans and animals had eaten part of the dead body.

For a moment, the boy stomach growled. It wouldn’t be the first time he ate rotten flesh. The smell, however, made him lose the hunger.

When he walked around the horse, he saw the source of the foul smell. Another dead body, this time a human’s.

The corpse was naked. Anything and everything of value had already being stripped by someone else. Only his pants, ripped, were left, and the boy knew why; after his death, the man shat.

Despite that state, the boy got closer, hoping they had overlooked something. Even as he searched, he never let go of the sword.

When he found nothing, he walked away. When he was far enough from the stench, his stomach growled once again. Without any hope of finding anything to eat, he raised his head and looked around.

Only death and destruction as far as his eyes could see. And the boy knew there was only more beyond that.

The battle had been bloody. Days ago, the boy had seen a red and orange that illuminated the ground at night and knew what it was at once. By the time he reached the battlefield, however, he was already too late. The battle was over, and anything useful gone.

It didn’t matter if it were the survivors or the scavengers; there was nothing of value left in the battlefield. The only thing the boy had found was the sword he didn’t let go, which was buried away beneath a soldier crushed by his horse.

The crows soared above the fields, flying in circles, croaking as they became hungrier, just waiting for the chance to come down and feast on the death.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

The boy had no intention of becoming their food and left the battlefield, heading to the forest on the opposite side. With any luck, he could find some fruit or maybe an animal to quell down his hunger, even if only a little. It had been days since he had eaten something decent, and even longer since he felt truly satisfied. He still dreamed of the tree with pink and delicious fruits he found weeks ago. Though he had no idea how many, he ate almost every fruit, even when his stomach was full and couldn’t eat anymore.

The memory warmed and gave him strength to keep moving, in the hopes he would find another tree like that.

“I told ya there was nothing left here. We were too late… again…” a faraway voice reached the boy thought the field. Followed by the sound of someone kicking something.

At once he became alert, straining his ears and looking around to find the owner of the voice.

“I said that already. The boss is a coward. We had to come right away… Now we lost anything of value…”

“Stop complaining, idiots,” a third person spoke. “You know we couldn’t. The soldiers were still around here. Then those guys showed up…”

“Yeah, I know. Now there’s nothing worth for us! I’m hungry and we haven’t found anything in days!”

Next, the boy heard a two slaps and grunts.

“Shut yer yaps, you idiots. I don’t wanna hear ya whining. Go complain with the boss, if you want. He’s the one who told us to look anyway.”

The boy had a bad feeling and tried to speed up. But the sword slowed him down.

“Hey, what’s that?” one of the men said, the voice closer to him.

“Someone’s alive in this damned place…?”

“It’s a brat!”

The boy heard the steps racing towards him but didn’t turn the head. Before he had reached the forest, he saw himself surrounded by three older boys.

One was thin and almost the same height as him. The other was shorter and missing one front tooth. The one in the middle, however, looked the oldest, tall and menacing.

The boy looked up, but the tall one was against the sun and he couldn’t see the face.

“Where did ya get that, boy?” Tall asked, pointing to the rusty and dented blade. “Was it on this battlefield? ‘Cause if ya did, it belongs to us.”

The boy ignored and walked around them.

There was a moment of silence. Then they laughed and followed him.

“Hey, don’t ignore us,” Missing Tooth said, flashing an ugly smile. “Look, you had no idea, but this area belongs to us, you know? You’re stealing our stuff.”

The boy ignored again, this time without even stopping.

“Hey, stop ignoring us and give that sword now!”

Tall reached out and tried to grab the weapon from the boy.

He dodged and used all his strength to swing the heavy blade.

The rusted blade smashed against Tall’s hand, cutting off the index and the middle finger. He shouted and fell backward as he held the wound. His screams echoed and scared the crows in the sky.

As the two others ran to help him, the boy stared Tall with a cold and empty expression.

Tall looked back, the eyes full of hate as he pressed the bloody hand and cried.

The boy didn’t mind at all. He already knew that look too well.

His friends helped Tall to stand and they ran away.

He wanted to clean the sword, but there was nothing he could do except let the droplets of blood drip on the earth

The boy looked at his weapon. The tip broke completely with the impact. Even so, he didn’t let go of it.

Dragging what was left of the blade, he walked until he was in the forest.