[Bêthberry]

Voiceless, Catrina could only mouth her incredulous question of "Why?" to her father as he grabbed her.

Then blood splattered over her as an arrow protruded from her father's chest and she recoiled. Suddenly the air was filled with arrows, then gutteral curses and cries and the clang of sword upon metal and rock and the awful crack of bone splintering. Fear and rage flew around the air like sweat flung off a desperate, racing body. She collapsed, cringing towards the wall, and could not tell what act was being played out before her blurred eyes.

~ ~ ~ ~

An unnatural silence haunted the scene as the stench of gore, entrails, and bodies releasing their last invaded Catrina's nostrils. Her own body protested and she retched with dry heaves but her throat closed and she nearly choked. She looked upon her father's yellowed, wax-like flesh and could not recognize the face she had once loved and then disobeyed. She looked upon the contorted visage of Kiatus, tongue lolling with blood outside the mouth, eyes distended in frozen grimace and horror marking every line. For that she had run away from home and brought ruin upon her family.

A clamy coldness swept over her and she began to tremble, violently, loathing herself and then swaying in utter estrangement and abject remorse, muttering to the rank air and the vultures which had descended upon the ground. It was a contemptible squandering of life in which she had been pawn, a mere pawn, in the men's arrogant acts of supremacy and authority. And stupidly duped by her own strong-headed willfulness. No lesson in self-knowledge should ever be bought so dearly.

Catrina's mouth went dry; her lungs emptied of air. She stared blankly into the sun, the white light branding her soul with the awful weight of understanding. Her hair seemed to whiten on the spot and she turned to look at the axeman, crumbled against the wall. His flesh still looked soft. At least he perhaps was still alive.