It was midnight. The moon hung still in the dark sky, a giant spotlight. A dark figure dashes through the trees. Zing an arrow flies through the air. The figure falls. Breathing heavily, it says, "Fenella…" Silent tears fall, unguarded. Another figure emerges. Darker than the night itself, wrapped in a cloak of secrecy, it approaches the fallen one. They share a look. No words need to be spoken aloud, they know what happens next. The figure still standing removes the hood from the fallen one's face. It's a woman. A pregnant woman. A pregnant woman more beautiful than the sun. She laughs, an anxious, hysterical laugh. The other on removes it's hood. It's a man. In his violet eyes, there lies a glimmer of remorse, though it is quickly subdued.
"Game over."