Nuria sat upon a small hill in just outside the remainder of the small village that had been her home, overlooking a cozy, little farm that had once been occupied by a happy couple and their three children. Now, it lay empty, all occupants lying in graves out front.
Nuria had spent the whole day burying all the bodies of those of the village. All whom she could identify, she had marked their graves with crudely made tombstones Oria had crafted herself. Those she had never known the names of, or bodies were too shredded to recognized had been placed beside the village, in a small makeshift cemetery, their headstones blank but for one line: "Killed in the Wolf-Demon Slaughtering on the Seventh Moon."
As for the wolf-demons, they had pilled the carcasses in the center of the village, and burned them, letting the smoke rise to the heavens above, and the ashes returned to the seven pits of hell from once they came.
Now, sitting alone in her favorite spot atop the tallest hill, her back to the village, overlooking the countryside, Nuria began to cry, allowing the feelings of sorrow and loss to finally take over as the wall she had built around her emotions came crumbling down around her.
Not far away, Oria watched over her elder sister, but she didn't cry. She had shed all her tears and could not do so any longer. She merely sat on her favorite spot, atop the thatch roof of the hut they once called theirs, in the village they once called home, and watched. The golden-haired guardian.
