He felt his heart stop as he finally erupted from the brush, the wood cutter he had in his paws falling from to the ground as he saw his family outside the ruins of their home. Their bodies were slashed and their clothes were torn as they dangled from the nooses that hung from the apple tree. He let out a choked whimper as he felt bile rise up in his throat at the sight of their necks, wrenched and stretched out in awkward positions, the eyes of his daughter and wife staring at him lifelessly.

Falling to his knees the vermin felt a sickening, ache in his stomach as tears began to well up in his eyes and trail down his snout. His hands, trembling with remorse and shock, went to grasp his stomach as he openly wept. Not a few feet away from the tree where his family now hung was his home, already a layer of black coating the walls as fire crept up to the thatched roof, until that too erupted into flames and it was nothing more than a huge flame.

As the support beam of his house finally gave away, and the black walls of the simple hut caved in on each other, sparks cascading into the sky, the mustelid looked up at his daughters face. She was always such a delicate girl... His gaze shifted to his wife as he felt raw hatred begin to seep into his soul, consuming his heart. The bastards didn't even leave her the locket he had given her, nor had they spared his daughter...

His fist pounded into the dirt as the fire crackled and snapped as it devoured the walls of his home, his dreams, and the last bit of hope he had left of starting anew. His breath began to get ragged as he sucked in air between clenched teeth, tears flowing from his eyes as he clenched his paws into tight fists, feeling blood slick down his palms and between his fingers as his claws cut through his skin.

And then he screamed. He screamed as he pounded his fist continuously into the dirt with veracious tenacity until his knuckles were bleeding and his throat was sore, and then he gave way to his grief and laid down, curling up into a ball underneath the footpaws of the only creatures that actually meant something to him in his life. And there he wept until he finally fell into a deep pitiful slumber.

In his sorrow he didn't even realize the curved dagger lodged in the chopping block, a note skewered on the blade which read:

To Kova Northwind,

Due to committing the horrid and dishonorable act of desertion from the high court of Lord Cavan, you have stained your reputation as an officer in the eyes of the Cavan Empire of The North and it's people. Thus, all who join you are to be punished with death and you are to live you life out in grief and sorrow. Sorrow that you gave up on the chance of a life time. Good Day.

Sincerely,

Officer Raftan J. Whip