The Village Burned

 



Sir Bucket stood at her assigned post on the ridge and trembled with fury as she watched the village burn below. She was glad her visor was down so her comrades could not see the tears running down her face.

Most of her fellow castle guards were down there somewhere, fighting the gargs. The hated foe had somehow gotten organized enough to torch dozens of thatched cottages belonging mostly to the castle's crafters like stone masons and blacksmiths.

She could not pick out her childhood home from this distance, and thick smoke further obscured her vision. The tears didn't help either.

"Dragon! Dragon!"

She looked up as her fellow guard pointed skyward with his sword. She drew hers as well, thinking it silly even as she automatically assumed her fighting stance.

Fight a dragon with a sword? Silly indeed.

But the prospect of action - and revenge - dried her tears and filled her thundering heart with a cold purpose.



///

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