The light shone quietly on the small town. Heat stifled every room in the minute houses. A woman with long, brunette hair squirmed on the edge of her bed, wiping at her sweaty brow. Little did she and the rest of the residents know that some very horrendous events were about to take place.

The warriors moved swiftly through the dark sidestreets silently, only the whooshing of a non-existent breeze stirred the air.

She got up to go fetch some water from the spring source, carrying with her a bucket. Her name was Violet Montaub, and she was recently married. Her husband was called Henry, and he was still sound asleep in their home.

Violet was thirsty though, and the heat only intensified it. She wondered aloud why she was still suprised it was so hot so late at night. She'd grown up in the South, she should be used to it by now.

The wind seemed to sing to her as she walked forth through the trees, white dress blowing around her ankles. She was seeking the clearing of ash trees where the pump was.

As she wrenched the pump's handle up and down, she took a moment to rest, wiping at her brow again. She looked up abruptly as she heard a growling noise from off in the distance.

She shivered involuntarily. It sounded closer than she could want. She gave up on filling the bucket. She'd wait until morning. Violet took a few quick steps towards the town again.

The bushes rustled menacingly. She began to run, pulling her skirt up a little so she wouldn't trip. Her breathing was harried, scared.

The trees blurred past her darkly, as if trying to hypnotize her. "Stay," they called, "Stay with us. Nothing bad will happen…"

She didn’t believe them, not for a second. She probably should have. It might have saved her from what was going to be a very trying and intriguing night.

As she neared the first buildings, Violet could immediately tell that something wasn’t right. Muffled screams seemed to echo off the walls as she ran up the side roads, through dark alleyways, kicking up dust with her frenzied heels.

The sounds reminded her of a story she’d once read. It had included old Roman gladiators, facing off against lions in a death match that no one ever eventually won. Violet had had to put the book down in time, such carnage was not for her.