Prologue

The fallen fruits lay desolate and leaked their juices onto the dry ground and the juices trickled into the cracks and crevices of the soil, leaving only a dark red stain upon the earthy tones. The harvesters had come at the right time, just when the berries were at their sweetest and ready to let go of the parent plant, but before many could drop to the dirt to be probed and trampled on by the scurry of the nosy insects that arrived to drink their life force. The field was full of the berries, ripe and a glossy purple beneath the sun they shared with the children that ran and dance as they worked, the sound of laughter drifting across the meadow. Parents kept a casual watch on them, knowing that no harm would come to them here.

The air was warm and humming with the pleasant drone of the bumble bees as they buzzed from flower to flower. The flowers emitted a sweet silk veil of scent that loosely wound itself around the field whilst the berries themselves sent out a fruity smell that made the workers feel hungry. Birds sung clearly in the trees, their songs merging harmoniously to create a music that filled with the worker’s with joy. The sky was an azure made even clearer by small and insignificant wisps of cloud that slowly swirled and spun their way across the divine heavens above. The sun was a bright sphere, too bright to look at but gorgeous to be under as it heated the workers. Occasionally one of the harvesters would get too hot, maybe from going too long under the sun’s penetrating gaze or from working too hard, and would go to a nearby tree to rest in the cool, pleasant shade.

The workers were all dressed in their summer clothes, strap tops and skirts or shorts for the women, vests or no top and shorts for the men. The skirts and necklaces swung as the harvesters worked, a steady swing back and forth, back and forth. As they swung the skirts made a small swishing noise whilst the necklaces clicked and clattered. The workers themselves made noise. They gossiped as they worked, chattering away nine to the dozen, their voices bubbling in the air. Giggles and laughter punctuated their conversations, creating an ebb and flow in the sounds of the field.

Still the children ran and danced, laughing with all the joy that a free and happy childhood brings. They were glad that they did not have to work, for after all it meant that they could play and scream to their hearts’ content, continuing all through the day with an energy that never stopped or even diminished. Except for when it was time to eat of course. Even then they were filled with an energy that the adults could not possess, purely because it was the type of energy that only a child could contain. As the children ate they giggled to themselves and to each other, nattering constantly causing the occasional spray of crumbs or juice from a careless mouth.

At some point in the afternoon, well after the sun had reached its peak, a shadow swept across the field, dimming the colours there for a moment or two before disappearing. The children did not notice, so absorbed were they in their game, but the adults did. They looked up, but they were too slow and did not see what had caused the shadow. A few frowns appeared among them, but they were soon cleared after another glance around and the adults resumed their work.

Twenty minutes later and nothing had changed. No more shadows or disruptions for the workers to worry about, and the incident had been forgotten. It should not have been.

Suddenly, out of the clear azure sky above, a dark shape lunged down to the field, talons flashing and a long tail creating a whistling sound in the air. A roar rumbled across the sky and the snap of gigantic leathery wings echoed across the field. The workers scattered. Their mouths opened in screams and shouts of terror. Cries for the children to hide were barely heard in the uproar, but that did not matter. The children were already frantically diving for the scant and pitiful shelter beneath the trees. The adults followed suit, cowering beneath the tender branches and praying for safety. Some were not quick enough. Snapped up by the talons a woman screamed in terror, then fell silent as her neck was broken. A man snatched as he ran towards the nearest tree, only a few metres away, but not close enough. His back was snapped in half. Another man, two more women … many more victims. All snatched up and broken in some way or another. And not just adults. Children suffered the same fate as well.

Finally the reign of terror ended, and gradually the sobs and whimpers quietened down. The spared crept out from their safety, slowly slowly, staring around with glazed eyes, shaking as they walked, covered in dirt. They saw the horror.

The bodies lay scattered across the field. More than twenty. Here and there a body still twitched in the last death throes. Nobody alive. Except one. A young girl, barely eight summers old, her limbs twisted and broken into the wrong shapes, lay on the ground, gasping and crying from the pain, begging for it to end. Soon it ended and she too lay still. Then there was silence.

The fallen fruits lay desolate and leaked their juices onto the dry ground and the juices trickled into the cracks and crevices of the soil, leaving only a dark red stain upon the earthy tones.