Sasuke POV
An hour later, Sasuke heard a shout in the distance carried by the wind. Far. Very far, but Sasuke's senses were sharpened into fine tools by years of training.
He didn't hesitate, and soon he was moving swiftly by hopping from tree to tree like he learned since his early days in the Leaf. Snowflakes blew past his face, his cloak flapping in the wind behind him.
Another shout, and as he moved closer, he realized it sounded more like a child's shriek than the cry of an adult.
His pace picked up. Sasuke would never call himself a hero, certainly not like Naruto. He hadn't earned that right yet. But he had a soft spot for kids in danger.
And being a bit more like his best friend didn't seem like the worst thing in the world, even if it sounded exhausting just thinking about being more like Naruto.
In the distance, the child's cry came to a sudden stop. Fearing the worst, he poured more chakra into his legs, and his next jump cracked the trunk of the pine tree when he stepped on the side of it.
He came to a stop not ten seconds later, standing on a branch of a large willow tree, and he was glad he'd hurried. His right eye shone a deep red as it took in the scene below him.
A man tore at the clothes of a young woman. An older woman stood over a bloody-faced little girl. Three children huddled in fear while seven other men hung around, doing nothing to stop either. His frown deepened.
None of the people in the clearing noticed his arrival. After Orochiamaru's training, Sasuke was as comfortable on a battlefield as he was infiltrating a palace. His movements barely made any noise, and he knew instinctively where to stand to hide himself from the gaze of others.
One would have to be a shinobi of Kakashi's caliber in detection to perceive Sasuke when he didn't want to be perceived, and these wildly-dressed people didn't seem to be on that level.
More than that, his eyes, both Sharingan and Rinnegan, saw through all these people as easily as if they were made of water. They had no chakra. None of the power that flowed through every person's pathways in his world, even the civilians, could be found in any of them.
The chakra pathways were there, he could see them, but they were empty. That did not mean they couldn't have other tricks up their sleeves, but he had not been expecting that. When he first stepped into this world, he had felt chakra in the air, permeating the atmosphere like a blanket.
It wasn't as thick as it was in his world, but it was there, particularly coming in from the far north. He could feel it pulsing like a living heart, sending out waves of dark chakra through the air.
Something to be investigated later.
His eyes shot back to the clearing, the speed of his observations faster than the people below could move. His heart hardened at the sight.
Chakra or not, it didn't matter. Sasuke decided his course of action in a split second. He could try being more like Naruto later. The man violating the girl would die first.
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Dacey POV
A whistle in the air. The kind a sword makes when it swings in the practice yard. Or an arrow leaving a bowstring.
Dacey barely had time to register it before Karl dropped next to Tilda, his hands going up to hold a throat that had been nearly ripped out entirely.
His eyes seemed to bug out of his face, disbelieving. He gasped and gurgled, legs dragging on the ground uselessly as if they were trying to run away from death.
He failed.
His weak convulsing stopped. Beneath him, blood gushed on the snow like a rose in bloom. No one around her even had time to move a muscle, so stunned at how fast Karl had died.
Tilda pushed herself back through the snow, looking at the corpse next to her with a mix of terror and relief in her face. With the young woman moving out of the way, Dacey noticed a small piece of metal sticking out of the ground half-covered by the snow. Her eyes widened as she realized what it was.
Some kind of knife? she asked herself. But how?
She looked around frantically, trying to spot whoever could have thrown it. But the forest seemed quiet all around them, no signs of track on the snow, not even a squirrel skittering out of its nest. Only the sighing of the wind brushing against tree branches.
As if snapping out of it, the wildlings exploded into action. Mother Mara growled, pushed Dacey back onto the ground as if to spite her, then swivelled around the clearing with her twin axes held before her. The rest of the men pulled their own weapons as well, stone clubs, bronze spears, and horn-wrought bows.
"What was that?" One of the wildlings asked.
"Arrow," another answered confidently. He had his own bow in hand and a stone-tipped arrow nocked. "I'll show this bastard who's got the best shot if he wants it."
"No, not an arrow," Skair said, nodding his head toward the strange metal blade sticking out of the ground. Holding his large war axe with both hands, he looked around cautiously. "Show yourself!" he called out.
"Aye, come out, craven!" Mara said, cackling.
Silence answered their calls. For a moment, Dacey thought nothing would happen. She had hit her head on a jutting root when Mara pushed her back down, and she was starting to think this whole situation was an illusion her weary mind had created for her.
Then there was the sound of leaves rustling, and suddenly a man walked out from the shadowed tree line toward their direction. His head was down against the wind, his collar flared up, covering most of his face, while his dark cloak fluttered behind him.
Dacey's heart soared in hope. A brother of the Night's Watch? Maybe even her great-uncle Jeor coming to rescue her! She opened her mouth to speak, to call out for his help.
Then the man looked up, eyes shining red and purple, and Dacey felt the words die in her mouth.
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