The light of the torched village soon disappeared and the woman stopped. Tired, she sits slumped against a tree, her child cradled to her chest. Tears sprinkle the baby's head as she watches him play with the silver spear.

The stomp of a boot breaking the silence. The glint of metal sliding next to the woman's neck followed by a shadowed body.

"You run too much dear woman," he says "Your husband fought well, he must have really loved you". The King's sanity stripped eyes gazed down as he slid the back of his blade to her neck.

As if completely unaware of the disturbance she bends her neck and places her forehead to her son's. "I love you" she whispers through a smile. A few muttered words escaping her lips as a bolt of lightning pierces the sky, the rumble of thunder shaking the earth below. The baby rocketing away from danger as the King's blade slashes across his mother's neck.