The horse pouted its hooves violently, shaking the Tatars on its seat like a dough pocket. He clamped his horse hard and walked to the edge of the clearing, where the light of the fire reflected his face and half of his shoulder. There he stared at his stomach in disbelief, blood gushing out like a rainbow.

The boy clenched his knife tightly. A low, buried roar echoed through the dark clearing, and he didn't know if it came from his knife or from his throat.

His friend remembered the third knight in amazement, and he looked back to see that the wood-shaded passage was swarthy, and from time to time the fires stirred up by the wind were shining. There were no dark horses or knights in it, as if no one had ever been there. The boy didn't pay any attention to the passage at all, and in fact he didn't see anything there at any time.

The boy stared at the corpses curled up on the ground in a daze, and when the blood was drained from his body, when his dark skin turned pale, they looked no different from himself. Falling from their horses made the Tatars look extraordinarily small, and they crouched in the dirt, looking less like a vicious foe than a pile of broken puppets.

"We've killed someone...... said his friend, staring at the huge cut-in-the-left cut in the Tatar's left ribs. Huge tree trunks fell from a great height in flames, the sky was opened, and many stars flowed.

"So what?" The boy replied hoarsely, blood dripping from his hands onto the scorched earth.

His eyes were red, like an inextinguishable thought burning in the heart of a beast in the dark night.

His friend suddenly had a feeling that the boy had changed a lot. This change was evident even earlier. It had begun in the ruins, since the knife had been found, and since then, the boy's hand had never left the hilt. The knife seemed to make him a different person. He became angry, irritable, impulsive, and never backed down.

"Ammar, are you tired?" His friend said, reaching out to touch his hand, "Put your knife down." You need to take a break. ”

"Don't touch it, Ayub." Ammar roared, and he pulled his hand away, so hard that Ayub staggered.

"Ammar, what's wrong with you?" Ayub took a step back and clasped her hands to her chest.

Ammar's eyes flashed in the darkness, probably a look of apology. He stuck his knife in the ground, suddenly crouched down, clutched his head and shouted, "I can't stand them doing this to my sheep!" I can't stand it! Stand! He burst into tears, snot and tears smearing dirty marks on Dahua's face. He opened his hand to Ayub, who saw a symbol of fire rising in the middle of a horizontal crescent moon in the palm of his hand, like a soldering iron in the palm of his hand. None of them noticed at first that there was indeed such an inscription on the hilt, and if they held the hilt firmly, the mark would be deeply imprinted in the palm of their hands.

The door to killing has been opened, and there is no way to cover it again.

The hoofs of a small troop of cavalry sounded dozens of paces away, and they were like dense rain feet, blown by the wind, and gradually drifted away, passing the roaring tree houses, the abandoned bushes and the hidden livestock sheds, and the heartless flow of a reed stream, straight into the distance. Ammar leaped to his feet as if he had heard a signal, and he reached out and pulled out the knife stuck in the dirt.

"Ammar?" Ayub shouted in disbelief as he rushed to a warhorse that had just lost its owner, reaching out and grabbing its chew, "Don't chase them, are you crazy?" ”

"Didn't you hear? We can't do anything, don't go. ”

"I don't believe it! I don't believe it! Amar shouted, drawing his knife and jumping on his horse. The horse seemed to be crushed by the weight of the knife, and swayed dejectedly under his ass. Ammar didn't even look at Ayub and rushed out.

Ayub snorted in annoyance, and turned to see another horse wandering around the edge of the clearing, dragging its long reins. He ran up and grabbed the reins, grabbed the saddle bridge, and just got on the horse's back, the horse kicked its hind legs violently. In an instant, Ayub flew up the treetops and fell face down to the ground, and the perpetrator ran away with his hooves raised in the blink of an eye.

Ayub lay on the ground, his bones seemed to fall apart, and he couldn't move for a while. He listened to the sound of Ammar's hooves, followed the chaotic hooves, and then suddenly turned back again.

When he looked up, he saw Amal standing before him, the sword lying across the saddle, dark and dark.

"What if...... If ......," Ammar whispered, his voice hesitant and short, "if you see her, give her this thing." He threw a cloth bag over, turned his horse's head again, and ran into the darkness.

Soon, except for the whirring of fire, the surroundings became silent. Ayub lay down for a while before he got up, spat out the sand from his mouth, and touched all over his body, but found no broken bones. He picked up a scimitar from the ground and listened intently for a long time, only to hear the wind jump over the treetops above his head like a rabbit.

He now has many questions on his mind. First of all, he did not know how long the Tatars had been coming and how many had come.

The horror stories he had heard of were legends that the Tatars usually burned and killed all the men and the women, and then set fire to the entire village. Now that the fire is burning, they may have gone, and perhaps there are still some small troops behind the palace.

Second, he wasn't sure if it would be better to get the horse back that had run away. The four-legged creature didn't seem to like him, but he looked down on Ammar and was puzzled. In the end he decided to try to chase the horse back, so as not to alarm the Tatars, if any, who had not yet left.

Finally, the scimitar that the Tatars liked to use in his hand made him feel awkward, and he did not know if he knew how to use it well when danger really came.

At that moment, a familiar feeling of stupor came back to him, making him feel far and close to this village.

He carried his knife around a large clump of trees that shook under the threat of flames, and immediately had the answers to all his questions.

There, a dozen tall and stout men, with their backs to the burning room, long and short spears and scimitars in their hands dragged a long shadow on the ground. They dragged the empty saddle horse, which had fallen off Ayub and ran away on its own, and was there a lot of noise and noise. Then, after they stopped arguing, they turned around one by one and looked back at the child with the knife.