Wednesday, 15 June 2011

This war was not going well.

She was dead, he knew even before they found her.

He had always been told people looked peaceful when they died, but she didn't. You couldn't mistake her for asleep with the terror still painted across her face. He stepped forward to close her eyes, careful to avoid standing in the blood pooled around her. A cough stopped him before he touched her. He looked up to see a shadow shake it's head. He breathed. He stepped away from her, her eyes still staring into the dark but he couldn't give anyone a reason to suspect he'd been there.

He turned away from her, ignoring the instinct that told him to stay with her. He'd gotten good at ignoring that instinct, he told himself she would have died sooner if he hadn't. The truth was she wouldn't have died tonight if he'd listened to it tugging at his heart to stay home and protect her. A shadow solidified beside him, a hand rested on his shoulder and then disappeared back into the darkness as he walked away from the young girls body. He paused, at the end of the alley and whispered, "Goodbye sister," and then he was gone, swallowed up by the night as he headed back to the manor.

Had anyone stayed to watch they would have noticed a small spark of light, a short distance from the body, and a tell-tale smell of sulphur as a messenger headed back to report to it's master.