It was raining outside of Paris.
A small band of gypsies were making their way along avoiding the city. At the front of the wagon line was Chopin, the group leader, and his adopted daughter, Maria.
They peered into the pouring rain as it muddied the road on which they rode. Men were riding towards them. Chopin sensing trouble nodded to his ward to use the low branch to climb into the tree.
The men spotted the gypsies and with a yell took aim with their muskets and pistols at the unarmed people. The girl gasped as she saw her adopted father lifted his arms begging and saying they were peaceful people and that they had no intention of entering the city. The men took no head. The slaughter continued until every last man, woman, and child was dead.
Maria whimpered, but held her mouth to prevent herself from calling out as the men remounted. They had rifled through the wagons and tipped them over taking the horses with them as they ignored the bodies of the people they had killed.
As they rode away Maria climbed down and cried out seeing her adopted family were about, their bodies broken and laying the mud like grotesque dolls. The dye from their bright clothing was seeping into the earth making the water the color of a watercolor artist's water.
Maria found Chopin to the side of their wagon. She cried and pulled his head from the mud. His eyes drained of life stared ahead looking at nothing and everything at once. She sobbed holding his body to her as she looked at the carnage about her. She knew exactly why they had died. She had been the cause.
Again she heard horses and she waited. Let them come. She had nothing more to lose. Both her families had died. She had nothing else to live for.
The horses slowed behind her. She took a breath and drew a knife from her belt. At least she would die after taking at least one of the men with her. She waited hearing two sets of footfalls as they looked about. They spoke about the carnage softly. Then they noticed her.
She heard one approach and she leapt up aiming to stab the man with her knife. He was too quick for her. He had seen her movement and blocked her blow with a strong hand to her wrist. He was talking to her as her fist came up to get free. He held her looking at her. His eyes were ice blue as he looked at her.
She finally dropped against him letting go of the weapon as she sobbed again and her knees went out from her. He caught her against him and looked down at her face as he held her. He pushed the wet hair from her face and met her gaze. His gaze was met and held by a pair of weeping green eyes of the deepest emerald he had ever seen.
"It's all right. There, there. We will not harm you." Was all the man said as he lifted her and carried her to his horse and then set about with his friend making a mass grave for the fallen. She watched amazed at this kindness and then they returned to her. He mounted behind her and his friend mounted his own horse and the fled the scene to find a warm place to get out of the rain before they all caught their death of cold.