The sky, which was once a brilliant blue, was now painted red, red like the color of blood, which was everywhere now. No one was safe from it. Not even a seven year old, who hid under the couch in the living room of her family's home. Zanthia could hear the fighting that was taking place outside, inside and everywhere in their village. Her people crying out, the war cry of the Balas, the scream of terror, all reached her ears and made her scared and sad. Zanthia's mom was busy trying to barricade all entrances of their home, but since the Gipsia's houses were made from the nature around them. Their houses were made from the wood of the strongest trees; the roofs were made from the large leaves and mud that was mixed with sap that was almost as strong as steel. She knew that the effort was futile but she had to do something for the sake of her daughter, who she could hear whimpering softly and she knew that her child was scared but right now she couldn't think of that. She had to protect her little girl, if there was a chance she would try to comfort her when this was all over.
Just as Zanthia's mother turned to grab another piece of furniture that her father made, the door and all the objects in front of it went flying in all different directions. Zanthia, with bated breath and fear freezing her limbs watched as a handful of Balas came storming into their house, bloody and hell bent on destruction. Once man, the apparent leader of this little group, grabbed her mother and sneered at her.
"Gipsia wench, we know you have a child in here, tell me where it is and I will kill you swiftly. Don't tell me and I will let you suffer."
The man's voice was roughened by all his yelling that Zanthia knew he had been doing earlier. As he held her mother captive by the throat Zanthia watched wide eyed from her hiding spot that her mother held herself like no one has, with courage, and spat in the face of one of the men.
"I will tell you nothing. I may die but I will go to the special place while you will walk on this earth cursed and die a horrible death only to rot in the most horrid place you can imagine." Her mother's voice never wavered though her eyes fought to look over at her daughter.
The man who held her just shrugged, pulled out his knife swiftly and in one motion slit her mothers throat. The man let her fall to the ground and Zanthia had to cover her own lips to keep from crying out as her mothers eyes found hers. Zanthia lay helpless under the couch as she watched all the light leave her mothers eyes. Zanthia's seven year old heart beat faster then it had ever in her life. Everything seemed to fade to a dull roar as she stared helpless at her mothers body. Tears just streamed down her face silently. Zanthia didn't want her mothers death to be for nothing if she were to make a noise and be captured and killed as well. She stayed hidden and silent long after then men had left and night came. Now all Zanthia heard were soft cries of a few survivors, the ones who were not found but now saw the destruction the Balas created.
Finally Zanthia crawled out from her hiding spot, which she was surprised the men didn't look under, and looked around. Nothing was what it was, what it had been or what it should still be. Everything was just thrown around, smashed, smooshed or completely destroyed. This wasn't her house, it was a strange place and Zanthia didn't like it. Not that any of it mattered, all she could really see was her mothers lifeless body, the body that was surrounded by blood. There was so much of it, Zanthia had never seen so much in her life. It wasn't red anymore, it was now brown and looked so wrong. Zanthia had never seen death before, everyone in her village sheltered the children from it until they grow of a certain age.
Now scared, tired and hurting Zanthia silently tiptoed to her mothers body. She tiptoed afraid that some of those men were still lurking around. Her mother looked so wrong, when she was alive she had been so full of life and had a certain glow to her, now she looked cold and the light was no longer there, she was just gone. Zanthia stood just at the edge of the blood and wept for the mother she lost. The one thing that made everything better was now gone and she could never get her back.
"Momma … " Zanthia whispered in a voice that broke with grief.
Zanthia knew there was nothing left for her here, she knew she had to leave this place and find somewhere better before the Balas came back, if they did. They would, she knew, because they killed her people for the land. The Gipsia's land was more fertile then the Balas and the Balas have always lusted after it. They just recently became bold enough to slaughter everyone.
A grief stricken Zanthia, dressed in a skirt and short sleeved cotton outfit her mother had made her, walked to the door way but wasn't able to move past the closed doorway. She knew that everything and near everyone was destroyed and she couldn't bring herself to walk into it. All the people she loved were dead, all the places she loved to go to were gone. Turning she moved towards her room. She didn't have the courage her mother told her to have to face the outside world just yet. Laying on her bed she curled into a tight little ball and held onto the doll her mother made her and slept. As she slept she dreamed of her home and village as it had been not a day before, a place where her brother Dakota, her father and her mother were all a live and loved her. Though she never saw death before she knew in her heart and soul that it was what happened to her village and family.
A day and a half later Zanthia finally uncurled herself from her ball and sat up, knowing she needed to leave. The place still rank of destruction. Nothing was the same and it never would again. Her little seven year old heart broke like it never would again. Putting her hair into a ponytail, she slipped from her bed and dressed into a short tan skirt, a short dark green sleeved shirt, sandals and a coin pressed against her forehead held by a thin leather thong. It was what Gipsia's wore when traveling to let people know what and who they were. Grabbing a bag she filled it with some clothes, an extra pair of sandals and a few small items that were valuable to her and would remind her of her home and family, who she loved dearly. With more courage then the other day she walked into the living room where her mothers shell lay and with tear filled eyes she walked over, reached down and pulled her mothers necklace off. Her mother never took it off, putting it around her own neck Zanthia swore right there that she would never take it off either.
Walking to the door Zanthia could smell that the village was still smoldering. A harsh reminder that the picture outside was not going to be a pleasant one. Zanthia knew she couldn't stay any longer but she was scared. She had never been on her own outside of the Gipsian territory in Tarnin before, ever. Zanthia had no idea what lay before in the continent of Alandias. Opening the door with shaking hands she opened the door and almost froze in horror. The people she loved in the village were scattered around like unwanted trash, some hung out the window having been killed before they were able to escape, there were even some who died in each others arms, an eternal embrace. Biting back a scream she moved out the door and saw the roads were drenched of blood, the dirt no longer visible. Pulling the straps tighter against her body she took off running, watching her feet so she didn't trip and fall.
Zanthia had never been outside her village alone before but she knew the basic layout of five countries but nothing too detailed. It didn't really matter at the moment anyway, she needed to find a place to call her own so she would travel as far and as long as she needed to. Someone from one of the other four countries would take, they had to, or so she thought. As Zanthia ran she remembered her mother talking of the Natural Kingdom, it had always sounded like heaven to her so she figured that would be a good place to aim for. For now she just needed to escape the only home she ever knew.