everyone else for that matter? If only she could get past the leaves and branches. But she dared not move. She held her breath as a pair of Torians walked by, not a stone's throw from her.
Just then, a loud shriek rang out above.
Ahndien let out a gasp.
Immediately she covered her mouth and braced herself behind a tree.
"What was that?" one of the soldiers said.
"You fool," the other said and pointed upwards into the sky. He laughed. "It's just a bird. See?"
"You're the fool! It's a vulture. Coming to pick the bones clean."
For fear she might wretch, Ahndien held her mouth tighter.
"By its marking, you idiot," said the first. "A blind man could see that it's an eagle."
The second soldier did not reply. He kept staring up. His lips started to move, but now words came out. Then he began to point. Finally, he said, "Whatever it is, it's coming at us!"
At that, they both ran, cowards that they were, and mounted their horses, just as the bird—the size of a horse—landed on the ground where they had fled. The magnificent creature tilted its head, jerked it side to side, surveying the destruction. It almost looked sad.
The eagle was every bit as terrible as it was beautiful. But Ahndien dared not move. Its razor sharp talons and beak were more frightening than a Torian sword. It let out a piercing cry, which caused the fleeing soldiers to blubber as they fled. Then the eagle itself spread its massive wings and sent a strong gust that bent the tree branches to the point of breaking as it flew off into the sky.
Finally, after it had vanished, Ahndien drew a deep breath. It was time. Tears stinging her eyes and the hilt of Ah-Ba's sword shaking between her fists, she descended the path to the burning village.
"Ah-Ba?" she whimpered, entering the gates. "Ah-Ma?" Neither responded. "Shao-Bao?"
Nothing.
She pushed the draping palms aside. All at once her heart sank. Strewn all over the ground were men, women and their children. All dead. Some of their clothes continued to burn. Others lay in pools of blood. None moved.
Every hut, burned to the ground or in the process. Carts overturned, fruits and vegetables scattered and crushed. The hideous stench of what Ahndien could only imagine was burning flesh made her stomach twist. The word "no" kept repeating silently on her lips.
Then something arrested her steps, her very breath.
Past the south wall, which had been smashed open, the clinking gears and grinding wheels of those monstrous siege engines and trebuchets pulling away caused the hair on the back of her neck to prickle. Ahndien dropped behind a fallen cart and gasped. Her entire body quaked. Every breath stuttered between clenched teeth. Her knuckles went pale, as she strangled the hilt of Ah-Ba's sword.
A large shadow from above passed over. The giant eagle.
The Torian soldiers' voices faded into the forest along with their monstrosities. It could not have taken but a few minutes, but to Ahndien it was an eternity.
Now came the dreadful task of looking for her family through the bodies and debris.
Let them be alive. Please.
When she arrived at the well, where ten paces to the south her house should have been, her knees grew weak. She fell upon them. The sword dropped from her hands and clanked against the rocks.
"Ah-Ma!" she cried out. "Shao-Bao!" In the fallen doorway of her hut, Mother lay still, face down with her arm draped over Shao-Bao. Arrows protruded from their backs and smoke continued to rise from their clothes. "No!"
She tried to get up, to run to them. But it was no good. Instead, she fell on her face and cried out in anguish. Like everyone else around, her family was dead.
She wanted to scream. Release the horror, the dagger of sorrow and regret that impaled her heart. But, for fear of betraying her presence, she held her hands tightly over her mouth as she rocked back
Krystal Shannan, Camryn Rhys