His feet moved quickly as he ran down the path, weaving around and even under ancient trees, whose immense roots showed the forest's age to be in the centuries of being undisturbed.
Trees began to thin and the path grew grassier as he neared the southeastern edge of the village and the smell of smoke and sound of shouts grew stronger.
Topping the small hill that marked the edge of Beregost, he was able to see the cause: a group of dog-snouted beasts walking on their hind legs, holding spears and swords were fleeing to the south as a group of militia chased them into the trees, and the smoke was rising in plumes from the four homes nearest him.. The smallest one was his own.
Dropping the rabbits, he sprinted towards his home, seeing the flames lick at the rooves, and noticing the bodies of these beasts and a few of his neighbors alike were strewn about on the matted grass. Some of the villagers stood bloodied, wearing makeshift bandages and tourniquets over their wounds, carrying pitchforks and rusted weapons that attics once held, their coughs muffled by the loud crackling of flames.
An older man, Mr. Cosley, his neighbour for the entirety of his sixteen year old life was on his knees, bent over someone familiar with a deep cut in his side, holding a blood-soaked bundle of fabric to the wound.. his once-white shirt torn and blackened by soot.. and a bloodied pitchfork at his side.. It was his father.
"Dad!" he yelled, collapsing beside Mr. Cosley, glancing at the pale face, sprayed with dried blood,
"Wh.. What.." the words stammered from his lips, as tears welled up in his eyes, his mind grasping to make sense.
His father's flesh was pale in the dimming light, failing to raise his head weakly, he rolled it over to look at his son.
"Kobolds.. They came.. From the south.." his throat was hoarse from the smoke, "I got one.. with the fork.. but he cut.. deep.."
Kobolds? Those were just stories to scare children!
The bundle of cloth on his wound was dripping into the grass into a growing pool.
"You can't die," sobs shook his body, his face trailed with tears.
"We all do.. son.. We.." a harsh cough brought up blood, halting his words.
Lifting an arm, Wrack wiped his face of tears and sat up..
