Nanowrimo.

Don’t think Ill finish in time. meh.

Reaching down, he tugged loose a ragged cloak from under the young man. Peasants. He wiped the blade of his axe, the cloak slowly turning crimson. Thrusting the rag back to the ground, he shielded his eyes from the morning sun. He stepped over the strewn bodies and could no longer be seen, hidden by the large trunk of an oak. Remilio got up from his somewhat comfy bed of leaves and did a quick stretch, cracking a few bones in his back. He pulled his hood over his eyes, covering his raven black hair. The day had barely begun, and already blood had been shed. He didn’t have a horse, and even then, he would not have made it in time. Holding back his emotions, he slowly made his way back to the castle. Let the dead bury the dead, or at least someone who had a shovel to dig the grave.

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