Will ran, looking over his shoulder as branches whipped his arms and legs. He could hear shouts in the trees behind him as he fled from the nightmare closing at his heels.
The memory of his home was emblazoned across his mind; mingling with the broken dreams he had been torn from by screams and dying cries.
He was ten years old and already running from the blaze on the horizon where his parents and siblings, servants and friends burned in the flames. He was the last living heir of Lord Canterbury and he ran for his life.
Will did not want revenge though the red-stained swords of the enemy soldiers fluttered at the back of his memory. He did not want revenge for he was sure in his heart he did not want to inflict his pain and grief upon another soul.