Wardrums in the distance kept a steady beat. I don’t know whether its purpose was to unnerve us, or communication, but something was coming.

I never heard anything else though I strained my ears, listening for the snap of a twig or the rustle of leaves. The night was still. My eyes searched shadows but found nothing. It was not until a knife appeared at my throat that I realized they were already here.

Raising a cry or a warning would doom me. Cowardice filled me and streamed down my leg. God help me, I wanted to live. So I stayed silent and watched as the shadows came alive and butchered the camp. As the only sentry, I witness a slaughter.

I was a prisoner until dawn.

As the mountains purpled, the man-shaped shadows faded away, vanishing toward the beating of the drums. The one that held me pinned in place with his knife was the last to go. He’d never moved.

He spoke as he vanished behind a tree.

“Spread the word of what happened here. Tell them of the price, when one of our sacred places is violated.”