It's small. It's quiet, and all around, people mill around. What's obvious is that these people are hardworking, if a little poor, but everyone seems content. In the distance, a song whistles out, and someone follows it with a hum or an answering whistle. The farmlands here are rich and well-maintained, and the animals are taken care of by adult and child alike.
Above the soft hum of voices, one in particular rings out. It's confident to the point of arrogance—or perhaps that's just the influence of the memory-sharer. And, indeed, once the voice is heard, it seems like the edges of the memory waver, and anxiety pushes at them. The air turns colder, despite the sun high in the sky and the fact that it's very obviously summer. That's when Mira turns, and she's smiling.
The anxiety turns to anger. Bitter self-hatred. Whoever's addressed her is approaching, and there's something about him that feels terribly off. He strides over to her, hands in his pockets, looking the picture of smugness. His golden eyes glint with self-satisfaction, and Mira continues to smile, wholly unaware of what's about to happen. ]
How was your hunting trip today? [ she asks, hands folded behind her back. As far as she's concerned, he's her friend. Nothing to worry about. ]
Enlightening, [ he tells her, and he tilts his head slightly to her. It doesn't take someone terribly perceptive to note the confusion on her face. ] For you, that is. And everyone here.
[ And it's then that he flicks his hand—a signal. Mira bristles and whirls around, and hooves pound the ground in a scattered rhythm. All around them, people are yelling, and Mira starts to go to help, to get to her parents—
He grabs her by the back of her tunic and holds her there. Forces her to watch, and refuses to allow her to act.
no subject