|With the last whispers of what had come before, the child stood alone, talisman in hand. Before him, horrors uncounted. The attack had been swift. Devastating. They had come from the skies. The trees. The cliffs. From everywhere. They had come in numbers untold, winged death, leaving little alive in their wake. Yet seemingly as soon as it had started, it was over, and he stood alone. He should have been ruined, traumatized, yet a power radiated from him. Something stronger than a mere toddler that gazed upon a scene of pain and death.
Tiny little fingers tightened around the feather he had plucked from the ground, and as he gazed upon the dark, winged, screeching mass that now shrunk into the distance he began to grin and in his eyes a hardened glint.
Somehow, there would be revenge, and he would never forget.