Chapter: The Kidnapping
The soldiers moved toward the children, their heavy iron boots trampling the pristine drifts into a jagged, gray slush.
Most of the children were crying openly now, the sound sharp and desperate against the roaring wind. Some clung to one another, burying their faces into damp wool cloaks, trying to hide from the massive, armed figures. Others simply stood frozen, their small bodies rigid with a terror so profound that it robbed them of the ability to run, scream, or even breathe.
The leader pulled his broadsword from the snow, wiped a final smear of the spy's blood onto his thigh armor, and sheathed the weapon with a sharp, heavy click.
"Take them," he commanded.
Nobody moved.
A strange, suffocating tension had settled over the clearing, thickening the air until it felt heavy in the lungs. It was an abrupt shift, completely unrelated to the physical biting cold of the blizzard.
