With a thundering heart, my feet pounded the cobblestone streets of what remained of my village. In the distance, I could still hear the screams of the wounded and dying. Their tortured cries ringing in my ears like a persistent mosquito. My sword was gripped tightly in my hands as I ran. As I ran from the inevitable death that would await should I stay. In the dark of night, my worst fear would be to encounter another living soul. In the darkness, to save my own life, I'd need to slaughter and kill, or, be slaughtered and be killed.