At some point I feel unto a dreamless sleep and when I woke the camp was moving. It was time to go back home. To what was left of it anyway.

The lady who carried me away the day before now bore me back to the broken homes and scared earth that was now our home. On tiny feet I went searching through the rubble for my parents. The raiders were gone so I knew that my father had been victorious and killed them. It couldn’t be any other way.

I looked, and looked, calling out for them and not understanding why they didn’t answer me and why they hadn’t found me. I was drawn to a circle of men who seemed to be arguing, one of the voices sounded like my father. Relief at finally finding someone I ran to the crows. He wasn’t alone though, and he was kneeling on the ground. Next to him was another man, someone I had seen my father with many times, and he was holding a knife ready in his hands and at my father’s throat.