The village had fallen eerily quiet.
The laughter, the warmth, the festival-like air that Cassius and Nala had created earlier, all of it was gone now. The courtyards were empty, the fires smoldering low, and the only sounds were the faint creaks of wooden shutters and the whisper of wind brushing against rooftops.
Most of the villagers, parents, elders, and the younger men, had gathered at the entrance.
The rest—mostly children, were hidden indoors.
Their parents had locked them in and told them to stay quiet, to be brave, to not make a sound. From behind the cracks of doors and windows, little faces peeked out, eyes wide with fear.
And at the village gates...chaos was waiting.
A mob of about forty men stood outside. They were armed with whatever they could grab, rusted swords, chipped axes, pitchforks, long fishing spears, even broken clubs.
