From that day on, his visits, though far between, became a regular event. One crisp winter morning, Donatien headed back towards the village again. A smile rested upon his face. Today was Cassie's birthday, and he had hand-carved a wooden horse and a top for her. The movement of the horse beneath him, the scent of the cool air, all these things paled in comparison to the thought of the three-year-old little girl giggling with delight as "Nassen" gave her the two gifts. His smile faded, however, as he noted thick black smoke hanging heavy in the air above where the village should have been. He spurred the horse on, speeding towards the village. A wave of disgust turned his stomach as the sight met his eyes...
Apparently, a girl from a neighboring village had visited Donatien's hometown a month previous. After returning home, she contracted a coughing illness. Fever and chills gave way to violent tremors, and finally death. The child's father, in a pained rage, immediately searched for the cause. As no wizards were found in his village, the man of power began to question who could have cursed his beloved child, as in his mind no natural illness could have possibly befallen her. The memory of the blue-haired lad flashed into his mind and he decided that it must have been him. The boy's village was connected highly to elementals, and killing his daughter must have been their retaliation for his village's turn to the new ways. Organizing a large party of men, he headed towards Donatien's home, destruction on his mind...
Slowly climbing down from his horse, Donatien stared at the sight before him. The large hall where the elders had met was burned to the ground, along with many homes. Men, women, and children... burned, bleeding, dead.. their bodies littered the street. Their faces were frozen in expressions of pain and fear.
"..CASSIE!! MOTHER!! FATHER!!"
Donatien ran towards his home, only to find the building collapsed. He stepped through embers and dying flame to pry up the rubble, searching. First, he found the body of his father, crushed by the collapsed house, the broken remnants of a sword remaining in his chest. A tear ran down the boy's cheek as he dug furiously. Surely.. surely his mother and sister...
The muffled sound of crying caught his attention and he stood. It was coming from the small barn in which his family raised a single cow and a few chickens and goats. Donatien lept over what was left of the fence and entered the barn. The sight he encountered there caused his stomach to turn again, and this time he vomited in pure desperation and disgust.
The body of his mother, stripped, flayed, burned... she hung from a rafter by her neck, tattered and destroyed nearly beyond recognition.
Again, he heard the cry. It couldn't have been his mother, she was clearly gone..
"...N..n....Nassen..."
"CASSIE!!"
He moved to the far stall.. and wanted to die at that very moment. His sister, a three year old child.. tied down against the boards of the stall, clothes stripped from her small body. She bled from several wounds, her blood still crimson as her powers had not yet set in.. Even the hay along the stall floor could not soak up the blood. Cassie was bruised, beaten, and judging by a few of the more disturbing wounds, as well as her position, she had been raped. Tearing the knife from his belt, he cut her loose and gathered her small form into his shaking arms.
"Cassie... what.. what happened..."
The little girl lay weakly in his arms, unable to move, her bruised jaw working hard to form the words. "Chaw.. chaw..."
"Chaw... you mean Chalston.. the next village..?"
"Chawston..... Nassen... I hewt..."
"I know Cassie.. I kn-.. Cassie?" She was silent. He shook her. CASSIE!!!"
The small girl died in his arms. The rest of that day and night, along with the next, he spent burying the dead amongst the ruins of his village. After the final grave had been dug, he sat weakly before the mound of earth that covered his family. The tears had ceased to flow, as an almost cold empty expression filled his eyes.
"Father... mother... Cassie... I'll make this right. Somehow.. I will make this right..."
Donatien headed back to the cottage, retrieving the bow he had made in his long stay there. A buckskin quiver full of arrows quickly came to rest against his back. The old man was nowhere in sight, and judging from the tracks that surrounded the cottage, he had been taken forcefully. Setting his jaw in a firm line, Donatien rode off towards Chalston.
Donatien Delacroix Community Member 
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