Red Snow
#10 of Writing Prompt
This was my entry for this week's prompt for my Writing Group. The prompt was, "Snow is falling, but it's not white-- it's red."
I had a lot of fun with this one, and really hope people enjoy it.
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Snow was coming down much heavier than it had an hour ago, making everything around seem far too innocent. I didn't shiver in the cold. I attributed it to the thick layers of leathers and hides covering my body to protect me, and the thick, white pelt of fur beneath, but I think it had more to do with how shot my nerves were. War can do that to you.
My tribe had come down from the mountains in the dark, using the shadows and heavy snow to blend in; most of us had white fur, or white pelts and hides to wear. It wasn't the first time that we'd fought with this rival tribe, but it was mostly skirmishes out in the open, never taking the fight to where the others lived.
Those previous fights had also been between warriors.
My stomach felt queasy as I looked out across the settlement of the Tribe that lived here just hours ago. There had been thirty yurts, mostly arranged in circles with a canopy to cover them to keep the area between clear of snow. Not a single tent was still standing, and the fires that consumed them were burned into my vision and would haunt me for years.
I just stood there, watching the smoldering wreckage of the once-proud tribe. Bodies were stacked like cordwood in the middle of the ruins and I could see our leader standing over them, chanting some words of ritual and ceremony while others stood nearby. I couldn't bring myself to join them.
The bodies were set aflame to prevent any of the local wild life from finding a meal from any of the deceased. The leader called it humane, as if he were doing them all a favor. When the weather warmed up, we would come back to scatter or bury the remains.
As I watched from afar, another of the tribe came up to stand next to me. A spotted leopard named Kilian who I was close with. He had a fresh cut across his cheek that would leave a scar, but was otherwise unharmed. He was hugging himself close, shivering as the wind carried the snow past us.
"Were you injured?" he asked, a note of concern in his voice. We hadn't spoken since the last member of the rival tribe had been killed.
"No. I'm okay," I said, having to repeat myself as it came out a hoarse whisper the first time.
Kilian nodded and followed my gaze to where most of the tribe stood near the fire that would soon become a blazing pyre. "I know how you must feel."
"Do you?" I said, biting back most of the anger from my tone.
The leopard was silent for a few seconds. "Maybe not. I'm sickened by it, too, but it was us or them, right?"
A few choice words came to mind but I held back and took a deep breath. "The answer could not have been that simple. The skirmishes in the past were largely started by our people. They even tried to make peace at one point."
"We tried to make peace, too. Neither negotiation went well," Kilian said, though he didn't sound confident.
"So that's it, then? We tried, we failed, and the best answer was to kill them in their sleep?"
"I didn't mean-"
"Their women?"
"Suko..."
"Their children?"
Kilian flinched and looked away, blinking a few times and taking in a measured breath. "No."
"No. This was a ruthless slaughter that served no purpose," I muttered, closing my eyes for a few minutes. Snow continued falling, collecting between my ears and on my muzzle, blending in with the pure white of my fur.
Pure white.
I opened my eyes and looked down at my arms that hung at my sides. Blood soaked both to the elbow, and the fur was matted down. Even at the end of my muzzle I could see the stain of blood as it had sprayed across my face in the heat of battle.
I hated that part of me. The part of me that had been able to turn off the emotions and fight. For survival, I'd told myself. This hadn't been for survival, though.
I could feel Kilian's gaze on me, but I didn't say anything, and neither did he. Our attention turned back to the funeral pyre as our tribe broke away, the leader heading towards us.
I stiffened, raising my chin as he approached. The look on his face was impossible to read. Not because of the lack of emotion, but the presence of far too many.
"Suko," he said, standing a couple feet from me and looking down at me, down into me as if reading my soul.
My teeth ground together, but I managed a polite, "Father."
The older fox pulled a whale-bone dagger from the sheath at his belt and he turned it around in his paw before stepping in closer.
I knew what was coming, and didn't flinch as he gripped the side of my head with one paw, and drew the dagger across my right brow in a clean, painless cut. I heard Kilian gasp beside me, but I didn't even react as the blood began running from the open wound.
My father took my right paw in his own and slapped the handle into my grip, squeezing my paw around the hilt with his own. "Learn. Lead," he said.
Without another word, He turned and walked back off towards where the rest of the tribe was beginning to gather for the return home, a lot of stunned looks on their faces.
I watched him go through one open eye. Blood ran down over my closed eye, and I turned my face towards the smoking wreck, opening both eyes now.
For just a moment, the blood ran across my eye, giving my world a red lens to see through. The flames looked hellish, the smoke black. Everything was blurred and out of focus, as if blood had been poured across a painting.
And the snow.
The snow once pure, innocent, white... was now stained, marred. Red.