The bodies didn't stay quiet for long.
He dragged them one by one — the men, the women, the broken animals — to the center of the village square. Some were still twitching. Nerves. Nothing more.
The boy watched from the shadows. Silent. Knees scraped. Eyes raw.
The man said nothing.
He lit the fire with a spark from his blade.
The flames roared quickly, like the world wanted them gone too. Orange light danced on the walls. Smoke curled up to the stars.
He stood before the fire until the faces melted.
Until the smell turned from death to ash.
Then he walked.
Didn't look back.
Didn't speak.
Didn't care if the boy followed.
But the boy did.
Barefoot. Shaking. Red lines down his face from dried tears and smoke.
He said nothing either. Just followed, step for step, like a shadow clinging to a monster's heel.
The man didn't stop him.
Not yet.