Cursed 2

EIGHTEEN

On the other side of the forest, the terrifying moans echoed with a blast of hot air before exploding in dozens of screams. Squirrel and the Weeping Monk approached the origin.
People in strange clothes were on the ground in blood while the Trinity finished them off. It was the circus where more than half were already dead or injured.
The air was filled with black smoke and swirling sparks that were familiar to the Weeping Monk. Those people's chariots had been burned.

“We have to help them!” said Squirrel who without hesitation took his bow and ran shooting at the Trinity without the Weeping Monk being able to stop him.

Their arrows were accurate but those men did not succumb easily. Women and children huddled together were terrified behind the trees.
Squirrel heard a guttural sound of a rope and saw an arrow sink into the neck of a man near him. The boy turned to see the origin of said arrow and a smile was drawn on his face when he saw that it was the Weeping Monk and that he had joined him by drawing his sword.
Right after Squirrel didn't expect what he would see near those chariots. The black smoke revealed the shadowy silhouette of Sister Iris pointing her arrow at him while he was surprised and petrified to see her fight alongside the Church.
The Weeping Monk's broad hand grabbed the boy by the collar of his shirt and pused him to the side so that the arrow wouldn't hit him.

“Move you!” shouted the monk.

His voice woke up the boy getting back on guard.

Many Feys died that day, but also several men in the Church were killed. Iris was surprised by the abilities of the ancient sword of God and decided to retreat together with the Trinity.

They managed to save almost half of the travelers who were hiding behind those trees. The monk approached Squirrel in concern.

“Only one against dozens of men? What were you thinking?! You shouldn't have attacked by yourself” the monk said.

“I am very capable. And I was not alone, you joined the fight” he answered with a mischievous look.

“You are too daring to be a child. Or maybe too stupid” he said resignedly.

Squirrel rolled his eyes with a half smile and turned toward the trees.

“You can go out now! Are you OK?”

Still scared and with their gaze fixed on the Weeping Monk, the survivors began to pick up from the ground what little had not yet burned. Shyly the boy with the little horns on his head motioned for Squirrel to come closer to him. His mother stared at the monk with suspicion and spat on the ground as a symbol of disgust causing him to bow his head.

“The witch has made it, the Feys are at sea” the little boy said in his ear.

Squirrel's eyes shone like that salt water that the Feys plowed through, pure and immense.