The child ran through the field, his hands covering his ears as the sound of hooves echoed upon the wind. Smoke filled the forests behind him, screams and cries shrieked into the sky. He knew the village was but a few hours run from the field, he just had to out run the east men.
He could hear them, they laughed and mocked him as they merely walked, taking bets on whom could hit him with their arrow first. Laughing loudly as their arrows purposefully soared right past the little boy who continued to run, their voices echoing through the field. One raised his bow, aiming for a moment before the smile that once streaked across his lips faded as he heard hooves that were not of their people. Stopping for a second and lowering the bow, looking quickly, yelling to one another before the saw them.
The men roared as they poured over hill with painted horses and bodies, seeming more beast than human. The men from the east stood no chance against them, running and charging them as the waves upon the beach. Soon the only screams that could be heard where of the ones whom thought their battle was already won. Men of the east tasted the bitter bite of northern steel.
The little gray haired boy walked through the smoking remains of his village, the buildings that hadn't reduced to cinders were on the verge of collapsing. His dirtied face showing trails under his eyes as tears rolled from his pale face, calling out for his father only to be answered by a familiar old voice.
"Bulivye? Little nephew, come here! 'Tis I, Drogvir. Come here boy!" The man spoke as he lept from his horse, whom was taller than he. He scooped up the young lad, covering him in a blanket as he pulled him in a protective hug.
"Where is Fatir? Drogvir, where is Fatir?" Bulivye asked as he looked around the remains of his village, Drogvir's voice was soft and calm. "He rests with the fathers little one, he looks down upon you with your mother. You will come live with me, you will be safe there Bulivye, I promise."
