Overlooking the bowl of mud, rain, and blood, that gathered together at the bottom of the hill by the Headsman's block, stood the village of Edge Cliff. Sagged was far more suitable a word, Talon thought. The buildings, made of wattle and daub, with peaked, thatched roofs, seemed to be almost sinking into the earth. A few of the houses were randomly dotted about the cliff top but most lined the wide dirt path, leading straight to Viscount Du Puis's tower.

The Viscount's Tower was a circular stone building, ridged at the top like a King's crown. It rose behind the Alehall at the end of the dirt track, leering over all else in Edge Cliff with glass eyes. A banner was fastened to the pole mounted atop the tower's peak. The golden hawk of Clovaine soared above a field of blue and red, rippling violently, as if the wind knew it didn't belong there.

Where the villagers bowed their heads and eyed the tower nervously out of the corner of their eyes, however, Talon watched its windows carefully. He wondered if the Viscount himself dared return this act of defiance.

'Don't look, you know it be bad luck, lad,' Uncle Jack gently pushed Talon's head down. I don't care how much stone you hide behind, Talon thought, wishing that his thoughts alone could be enough to crumble the building and drown its inhabitants in rocks. I'll make that tower your grave, I swear it.

On a warm Summer's day, the path would give rise to billowing clouds of dust that stung the villagers' eyes. But today, Talon and his Uncle found themselves trudging through a mire of sludge.

The two spoke very little on the way, though not for want of trying. The hesitant glances Uncle Jack sent his way were plentiful but whenever the man breathed sharply, as if to speak, his jaw would snap shut only a moment later.

Talon wondered if his Uncle thought he was as shocked as he, as his nephew's eyes flickered madly over Edge Cliff. They scoured every villager, every break on a roof's thatching, every frightened look, every blade of grass between the headsman's block and the cliff's edge. Uncle Jack watched him quietly then nodded to himself. Oh, Uncle. If only he knew his nephew had been scheming long before the axe's blade had caught the clouded, afternoon sun.

A startled yelp punctuated the rainfall followed by a growl so deep it would have seemed unlikely to have come from one of the villagers.

Yet, sure enough, they found the source of the commotion right next to Uncle Jack's house.

Buck Owens, who lived directly opposite them, held Eli Gil up with one hand, the little man's feet dangling helplessly above the ground.

Buck was an ox of a man. The short-sleeved tunic he wore seemed far too tight to be practical when ploughing the fields and barely restrained his thigh-size arms. His hair was cropped close to his scalp around the back and sides with a sandy plume rising against the top.

'I swear, I didn't!' Eli squeaked.

'I saw you staring at her, toad, what have I told you about-'

Noticing Jack and Talon coming up the road, Buck dropped Eli roughly against his fence and fixed Talon with a cold glare.

'What are ye' looking at?' he spat into the sludge path beside him, 'looking to join that Clovaine bitch on the block?'

'Flay me, Buck! What's wrong with ye'?' Uncle Jack's jaw swung in horror.

The realisation suddenly dawned on the man's face as he looked between Jack and Talon and he visibly paled. 'Uh... Jack... Talon,' the man said. He lowered his head when he came to Talon, unable to bring himself to meet the child's piercing blue eyes.

Buck could have grovelled himself into a hole and it wouldn't have made a difference as far as Talon was concerned.

'I'll see you later, toad,' Buck grunted at Eli, quickly excusing himself.

Eli didn't get up until he saw Buck's door slam behind him. 'Toad' seemed slightly unfair a nickname but one Eli could hardly avoid. With his wide lips and large eyes, practically bulging when Buck had held him above his fence, the resemblance was there.

'Jack! Talon!' Eli scrambled to his feet, his voice held to a whisper as if he dared not alert Buck to his continued existence. 'Thank you!' he grasped Jack's hands, 'I thought... well, you know,' he nodded to Buck's door with an uneasy expression.

'Think nothing of it,' Uncle Jack said gruffly, 'now if you don't mind... the boy and I need some time... to ourselves.'

Eli gasped.

'Oh! Of course, I'm so sorry!' Eli apologised, hands flapping by his waist. 'No one - I mean - I certainly don't - didn't!' Eli corrected himself with a nervous laugh, 'your brother's wife she was... ah - oh dear.'

'Thank you,' Jack said, waiting until the man had scampered off into his house before lowering himself on his haunches to Talon's height.

'I know it's going to be tough, lad but are ye' up for going to yer' mam's house one last time?' Jack said softly, choking a little on the odd word.

Talon nodded.

'Would ye' like me to come with ye'?' he asked.

Talon shook his head. Uncle Jack seemed somewhat relieved when Talon set off at once around the back of his Uncle's house.

The Carth household was one of the few buildings scattered randomly outside of the dirt track. It lay secluded right up to the edge of the wattle and daub wall that snaked around the village's perimeter.

Some of Edge Cliff's children stood gathered in front of it, babbling to each other and pointing at something etched on the door. Upon noticing the grim-set, raven locked boy that stalked towards them, one of the children gave off a high-pitched squeak and they scattered like mice fleeing a hawk.

Talon sighed as he inspected the door frame - a crude outline of an eye with a line running sharply down the middle was emblazoned across the wood, fresh paint dribbling down into the mud like teardrops. It was not the first time the villagers had branded the Devil's Eye on his door. That's how the whole rotten business of executions had started, one Carth head after the other... He wondered who had been bold enough to do it this time.

Talon kicked the door with a grunt, and it swung inwards. The one good thing about the Devil's Eye was that no one would dare enter a house they thought had been touched by magic.

Inside it was much the same as it had been left. A pot, leaning on its side, sat cold in the middle of the gravelled floor. Two straw beds were tucked into the furthest corners, separated by a wall of tightly woven reeds running up to the horizontal beams. His father and sister's clothes had long since been buried in the wicker basket on his parents' side of the reed wall. Only his mother's shawl and ankle-length dress hung on the hooks by the door.

Careful not to snag the shawl on the hook, Talon lifted it free and went to sit on his parents' bed, holding the material to his cheeks. His lower lip wobbled as he fought against the looming tide building against his eyes. No. He would not allow anyone the satisfaction of seeing him hurt. He wiped away the few tears that had trickled down, unbeknownst to him, on the back of his sleeve and pushed himself off the bed, shawl gripped tightly within his fist.

Talon took a deep breath as he gripped the door's latch. No more stupid tears, he told himself strictly.

Uncle Jack was not waiting for him on the dirt path when he returned, nor did anyone else remain. Talon smiled to himself - now would be the perfect time to commence his plan.

The rain, now thundering against the earth like a string of horses, hid the splashing his feet made in the small puddles formed from the boot-shaped indents left in the mud.

If he was lucky, Uncle Jack would just think he was still at his parents' house and not climbing over into Eli Gil's back garden.

Once he was certain the 'toad' hadn't heard him, Talon set to work on the fences. One after the other, he drew out slithers of ripped material, each varying in colour, and weaved them into the wattle around the fence's brim.

The rain had already soaked him to his bones but he didn't care.

He glanced up at the Viscount's Tower, overlooking him in an imperious manner. Just you wait, just you wait. Talon had to bite back a cold laugh.

****

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