greyleaf

‘They are lost and leaderless,’ began the old man in a serious yet quiet tone, ‘their lands have been torn asunder by the passing of time.’

‘You tell me this,’ Thistlemead spat, ‘when I care very little? Should every single one of them starve, it would not affect me.’

Greyleaf let out a muffled cry, accompanied by violent choking and the sound of sticks clashing.
‘Beat him!’ the large man laughed sadistically, ‘break every bone! Crack his ribs and smash his limbs!’

‘You know why you are here, Greyleaf,’ said the leader of the three other men, his voice cold and terrifying, though it carried a strange unwelcomed warmth, ‘tell us the names of those you have been speaking to so boldly.’