Beyond Night
Still, she rode alone, back to the woods and away from the army, unwilling to see where the cry had come from.
Off the horse, Tancorix ascended the hill and saw the source of the terrible scream. A Roman soldier lay across the fallen tree she’d just used as a makeshift throne. The two big Pict soldiers flanked the women of the wood. Long loops of intestines emerged from a huge gap in the Roman’s belly, and rested in Weaver’s palms. She studied the grisly loops like someone reading parchment. Ragala, hands behind her back, peered at them, too, listening to the words of the wood Weaver spoke.
“What does the future hold?” Tancorix asked, amused by the ritual.
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