He bit his lip.
Small drops of snow began to fall around the desolate, war-torn field he lay in. Not a single clearing in the sky was made, only consisting of a dull and cloudy white.
Beneath the tattered remnants of a war banner is where he sat, thick slicks of cold mud digging into his knees as he sat just above a bleeding corpse. Even as the wind began to scream in his ear and the frost began to possess his body, he still wouldn't budge.
By now, with his jaw locked down on his own lip, blood was beginning to crack out and leak onto the floor.
"I will kill you..!" He managed to mutter out from his seething teeth. With a hefty lunge, he towered his short sword just above his own head before burrowing it straight through the dead soldiers flesh.
"I will kill you, I will kill you, I will kill you!" He somberly repeated. Every word that slipped from his mouth came with an almost heartbreaking expression of pain and sorrow.
Once more did he lift his blade, only to crash it back into his flesh. And again. And again. And again.
The harsh winds began to lift the smell of iron to his nose, yet not even that was enough motivation to stop him.
He just kept stabbing.
Sounds of flesh against metal was far from silent, drawing the isolated attention of a young blonde knight wandering the field. His armor clunked with each movement, leaving no weakness aside from slim crevices by his joints. Eyes shining like the sky that never was and voice as deep and spiteful as a scowl, he spoke;
"The hell's are you doing?"
Finally, the boy stopped. Silently and slowly, he pressed his bloodied palm against the wet soil, raising his body and twisting his head to meet the man's gaze. "I... I was-"
"You were stabbing a corpse, boy. I can see that."
His pathetic voice was reduced to nothing but a whimper. "Please, sir... I did what I was meant to. If I could only get some rations, then-"
The man scoffed. "You kill one person, and the first thing you think of is food. It's not up to me to decide what you eat, that's the quartermaster's job."
"Right..."
"Get back to the camp at once — there's nothing left here but bodies." The man spun around, starting to progress further into the desolate expanse.
Before he could get far, however, the boy was quick to speak up. "But... we'll get food today, right?"
He had already begun to choke on his words before managing to finish. The moment the young knight had stopped moving, he had known what was to come next.
Briskly did the knight's entire body churn, boots slapping against the mire before bashing the boy across his face. From the force, his body was pushed away, though was quick to be raised just from the earth's surface by the man holding him form the neck.
"I told you, that's not my job-!" He scathed, being sure to spit against his cheek before throwing him against the ground. "Get back to camp, pissant. Don't make me tell you again."
The boy held his throat against the ground, coughing up lung-fulls of air. As the knight began to walk away, a slight hint of contempt was held in the boy's weak vision.
Through his short and roughly-postured dark hair, he glared daggers to the back of the armored man. Deep in his heart, he wanted to stand and beat the ever-living shit out of him. He wanted to rip him limb from limb, and watch in joy as he bled out on the muddy ground.
Of course, he was powerless. His psychotic dreams of murder were nothing but a fantasy. Instead, he clenched his eyes and slowly came to his feet, beginning to trudge his way back to the camp.
Instinctively, however, he had already known by the man's response the answer to his question.
"No food again..." He muttered, wallowing in agony the whole way back.