Labyrinth of the Sword

“Come with me, child.” Her motherly smile beckoned, while the weapon strapped to her back steeled her aura. “Today we are to the vineyards.” We took hands and danced along our path, laughing, woven baskets flailing as we reveled in warmth.

We reaped as much as we could return. It took most of the day, and with as much we gathered we filled our bellies and flung splattering gaffs, regaling in such levity. The sun moved far enough and she bid us for home.

On our return pass through the orchard we met them. Passers through, hungry for a roof in their words. Their intentions were quickly revealed and she drew against, fruit tumbling from basket to earth. She felled two, and between the last and my trembling form was her sword.

Her final cries fed me, a woeful teaching not meant to be, but so often was, passed. And by the slight of my figure I writhed between his legs and turned blade into guts.

I fled for home.