A Short Story: Dagger, Misunderstanding and Mistake
Stave One: Nightfall
The woods of Elmaroth were desolate that night. The crows came to claim the dead. Blood was spilled.
The sun was dipped in blood; it illuminated the trees with a ruddy glare. The ground was also red - only more so.
Melanie sobbed over her mother’s body, sobbed and shook. The protruding arrow in the woman’s chest symbolised the imminent danger of death.
“Find him,” then woman rasped, “Find him, Melanie. Take my dagger. Compare it with his. The heir. The Prince.”
“Mother…don’t leave, don’t leave me…”