He told himself that it wasn't his fault. But he still couldn't watch. Instead, he turned his back to the growing fog, tainted by reds and oranges as the sun rose over the plain. He was far enough away to lose the sounds of steel on steel, but the screams were more powerful. They were so raw his own throat began to burn, and as the bile fought its way up, he wished it would just burn him whole.
He told himself he had had no choice. Women and children had no place in battle, and it was their fault for marching their entire clan, armed to hell and back. No one would be left alive, no matter how young or feeble. The Astories were a battle clan, and there wasn't one among them that could be trusted.
Warmth flooded across his back and shoulders, relieving some of the tension there. He could feel the fog shifting behind him, dissipating in the face of a new dawn. It would be a clear day, no matter what had happened in the valley below.
Slowly, he let his hands slide from his face, opening his eyes for the first time since it had begun. He had never heard the hooves pounding behind him, but he knew that Rothgar was there regardless.
"It is done."
He bowed his head for a moment and then took a deep breath. Turning, he mounted his own horse and turned to face the carnage below.
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