I sit down on the grass. Why are they still not fearing of me? This place does not know the sight of death. The elder is right. She knows the creatures of the swamp. But I had not heard it as the Dark One before. A fitting name at least. The child infant I had saved is rustling with my tail. I do not understand these creatures. They baffle me. Yet... I admire them. I watch as the children play games in the sun. They're playing with a ground ball. I remember playing with one once, but then I was taken to join the army. The ball gets kicked to me accidentally. I pick it up. A little boy walks forward. I throw him the ball. He catches it. They resume playing.

They're beyond the age I was when I was pulled into the army. I barely remember being able to play with a ball. I was trained to fight. I was trained to kill. I was born to kill. It wasn't up until now; I am regretting all the blood I've spilled. I look at my hands. There's so much blood on them. Blood of the Children of the Wild. Firey animals almost. They're savages. But... now I have seen true savages. It's terrifying.