Blood of Thorns

The thick clouds filled the once blue sky with gray and dreary sadness. Those who had been running errands since the sun had come up that morning had gone home, knowing that the rain would fall upon their village soon. Sickness came to those who chose to stay outside as the water poured down from the Heavens. However, one child - no older than six - did not mind even though she knew that her father would scold her once he felt her head becoming warm. Her mother did not mind if she played around when the rain fell, which is why she would go to her once her body began to feel fatigued.

At the edge of the village, the one closest to the King and Queen’s castle, stood a cottage with pale colored flowers in each of the two front windows on the inside of the house, in wooden boxed build by the girl’s father the year that they moved in as a family. The soil that they grew in from the forest surrounding the walls that protected them was dry, as the child’s mother saw. “Marion, my child!” she called from the open window. “Would you like to get some water for plants with me?”

“Yes, mama!” Marion screamed from the other room where she had been watching her father put the finishing touches on the small project that he had been working on for one of their neighbors. Her small, quick footsteps could be heard as she ran into the room where her mother was standing, a silver gardening pot in her hand, holding it out to her daughter. “Bye papa!” the child called out as the two left the house, hand-in-hand.

The child, Marion, hummed a cheery song as they walked down the cobblestone street toward the water spicket just a few houses down from theirs. Her mother silently waved at the few adults that they passed with a smile on her face. One man, whose daughter was Marion’s age, patted Marion on the head once before disappearing into his house.

“Marion.” Her mother’s hand slipped from hers, and she began to fall behind just a bit. “Marion! Come here, my child!” The girl turned, dropping the watering pot from her hand when she saw the fear in her mother’s eyes. Screams began to fill the air from the villagers that were once in their houses. Marion could see, from behind her mother, a sea of men wearing dark armor, swords and spears in their hands. Her eyes grew wide, but her body would not move as they rapidly approached her.

Her mother scooped her into her arms, weaving in between the villagers that were running all down the street. The two ran down an alley to get away from the men who, Marion could see, were breaking into the neighbors houses with no mercy on their faces, tearing apart everything that they could find. “Mama!” she screamed as a man followed the two down the alley as if to capture them.

Her mother continued to run, and without looking back at the man, called upon the fire within her body and shot it in his direction from her fingertips. He fell back in shock, and made more distance between them. When her hand returned to Marion’s back, the fingers that she used were hot to the touch.

“Take her! Take her and run!” Marion was passed to her father, who had come to meet them near their own house. Her father held her close and began running in the opposite direction of where her mother was going.

It all happened so quickly that it took a few seconds for Marion to realize where her mother was going. She was going to defend the village from the invaders. “Mama! Don’t go!” she screamed. But her mother did not hear her; she was too far away. They weaved in and out of the houses, hoping that none of the men would notice them. The last of the villagers were passing them, some had blood pouring down their faces. Marion closed her eyes as tears ran down her cheeks. She did not want to leave her mother behind, but her father knew that his wife might be the one to save their village.

Her father took her to the edge of the village, out of the east gate, away from the men that were terrorizing their now destroyed town. No one could tell how many people had perished; the ones that had avoided the fight would only come back once they knew that the men in armor were gone. They ran and ran until her father’s chest burned. When Marion opened her eyes, all she could see was the forest around her. Green from the leaves, brown from the bark, red from the berries hanging down from the branches. “Papa…” was all she could say as he set her down, as he himself sat down to catch his breath. “What happened?”

Her father sighed, pulling her into his arms in a hug. “We had to run Marion. We are no longer safe.”

“But what about Mama?”

“She will be safe, my dear,” he replied, hoping that he was right. “We will find her again soon, when our village is safe again.”

“But where will we go?”

He glanced around him, hoping he would know where he had taken them. But the trees around them were unfamiliar to him. “We must go where we will be protected. We cannot go back there now.”