The ground is hard and cold, feels like the horse’s hooves are hitting marble rather than dirt. The beast’s breath freezes and turns to mist as it moans to be allowed to rest, but its rider is adamant that they move forward until they re-join the group. The trees cover the moons light, and the woods are too wet to make a fire, so they move in the dark, barely able to follow the path left by the others, that is if they haven’t already lost their way. It’s a dangerous time to be alone in the forest, the cold is not the only thing that can kill a man. The rider is well aware of the danger he’s in if he doesn’t catch up with his group, but his steed is exhausted from the hard ride of the day and cold of the night. Just a little farther, he thinks, it won’t be long now. They will have noticed my absence once they made camp and are probably out looking for me right now. This is his first excursion. He requested it and won’t be able to live down the humiliation if they have to come save him. That would put an end to any hopes he had of rising the ranks. Damn horse, why have you got us so lost. Every noise turned his head, as he grew more restless by the second. The creak of a tree, the sound of leaves whistling in the wind, he’s sure something was watching him just out of sight.

He was unknowingly going in circles for hours as it happens, it was too dark to follow any path or identify any landmarks. He lost hope of ever finding his group that night but then came the light in the distance. He set the exhausted horse to gallop after the light. It’s them, they’re looking for me. The light got bigger, they must have made camp, he could almost feel the warmness of the campfire as they made their way through the last line of trees blocking them from salvation. But when they finally found the light, it was not salvation that was waiting for them, oh god no. He found himself in the middle of a massacre. All his group lay slaughtered on the ground in front of him and the men responsible were moving to surround him with hungry eyes. They had set out to hunt them down and instead became the hunted. All reason had left him, any thought of rank or position, foolish dreams that had driven him to this place.

Before he could turn back and escape, the rider was pulled from his horse and dragged crying for mercy to the edge of the huge raging fire, to the feet of the man they were sent there for. At first, he was too scared to look up at him but after being pressed to, he finally moved his gaze from the fire to the man with eyes as red as the flames behind him. “Nice to get warm after that long trek,” he spoke with a faint raspy voice. On account of the large scar across his neck the rider guessed. He was too scared to speak so he nodded as best he could. The man turned from him back to the fire and warmed his hands. “You know who I am.” It wasn’t a question, Alistair Flint was known and feared by every man, woman, and child for a thousand miles. The rider nodded again and finally found his voice, “p-p-please don’t kill me.”

 “I’m afraid I can’t do that,” he spoke in a genuine and almost remorseful tone.

“Please,” the rider begged as tears flowed down his face.

The man known as Flint turned to the rider again, “Grovelling will get you nowhere. I can, however, let you choose how it happens.” The rider was too terrified about the idea of dying to say anything. Flint continued, “after a day and night in this weather I’m guessing you’d like to go out quick and warm, am I right?” The rider didn’t answer. Flint knelt so that they were the same level. “Trust me it’s the best you’re going to get,” the rider started to cry outright and nodded in agreement. Flint put his hand on his shoulder as if to comfort the young man. He leaned in close so that there was only a foot between them and told him, “don’t worry, it’ll only hurt for a moment,” before sticking a blade deep between the rider’s ribs. The rider struggled for breath and clutched at Flint, who allowed it and pulled him up to his feet. As he began to fade Flint held his head up, to look at him in the eyes, before telling him, “you see, barely a little thing,” and with a shock to the dying man and those watching, took him in his arms for an embrace. As he felt the light fading around him, the life leaving as the blood flowed down his front, he felt a sudden burning sensation. Flint tossed him into the flames and watched as he squirmed and screamed in agony for a few seconds before engulfed by the fire. Flint never took his eyes off the young man in black until it was over. Only when the body had stilled did he Order for the rest of the bodies to be thrown in as well.