The mere thought sent a chill down his spine. His limbs went numb, and it felt like his lungs were packed with ice, making every breath agonizing.
Then, he saw it—
Mangled flesh and shattered bone littered the ground. Intestines hung from broken branches, and blood mixed with mud, flowing in small streams.
She was squatting in a pile of carnage, still as a forgotten clay statue.
Her hair was soaked, sticking to her cheeks and temples and caked with black mud. Dark, dried blood was crusted under her fingernails.
She clutched half of a broken blade, her fingertips still twitching faintly. Blood dripped, drop by drop, onto the mangled flesh at her feet.
In that instant, his heart stopped.
The world fell so silent he could hear the sound of blood hitting the ground.
Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.
'If I had been one second later…'
'If she'd been dragged into the bushes by those beasts, torn to shreds, devoured until not even a bone remained…'
