The road to Gonnb was quiet.
That was the first thing Caef noticed.
The path that had once been worn smooth by people was now overgrown with weeds, the tracks of wagons barely visible beneath the creeping green.
The silence was very different too. No birds called from the trees. No insects buzzed in the underbrush.
Caef had been away for months, trading goods with a settlement to the north. He had left his brother in charge, as he always did.
The village had been standing when he left. His brother had been alive when he left. The livestock had been in their pens, the children had been playing in the dirt, and the women had been tending to the fires.
Now, as he crested the final hill, he saw what remained.
Nothing.
The village was gone. Not damaged or burned in part. But completely gone. The huts that had lined the main path were reduced to blackened lumps of ash and charred timber.
