• The fire flushed a blinding red, its stern glare fierce in the faces of the foreboding crowd of natives. The natives clothing consisted solely of bits of animal skin covering the vitals of their naturally bronzed skin, piercings and berry red tattoos could be seen on even the youngest of offspring. They surrounded a small circular clearing where the snap crackle of the wooden coals danced into the sky as the fire roared on. Trees of mammoth proportions enveloped the land as far as the eye could comprehend through the inky mass. Stars glistened with supernatural glow as they peaked through the leafy brocade of trees.
    A slow and rhythmic beat launched without warning, abrupt and mournful. As the minutes passed by the speed and ferocity of the beat climbed to unspeakably new heights. It became all that could be heard by native and creature alike. A small group of natives progressed through the masses, the villagers giving wide berth to the apprehensive assemblage. The men leading the procession stared transfixed on the fire which seemed to be their destination. They marched in two’s, their hands grasping a thickly made rope of hemp which tied in the end to the neck of a man very unlike the rest. Instead of bronze skin with black eyes he possessed a shock of silvery blond hair just long enough to grace his shoulder blades; his eyes were sea green and sparkled with menace and overwhelming grief. His pale body was stripped save for the leftover fragments of his tattered garments. The once pale clothe a dirt brown, strange symbols unknown to the natives were still visible under the filth. His chest was etched with scars and dotted by massive purple bruises. Blood stains ran down his back from whiplashes. His ribs were covered merely by muscle pasty white skin. In fact the only similarity between him and his captures was that they were all human to the naked eye.
    The sickening mood and appearance of this unfortunate soul was enhanced by the eerie sound of the anonymous drumbeat, throbbing in tune to the aching pulse in his neck and forehead. The onlookers dropped their eyes and stepped aside as he passed. His face was unreadable and calm in spite of the situation. He walked with little fight left in him. His glassy bloodshot eyes swept coldly over the receding crowd. The woman pulled their children safely behind them when they felt the chill of his stare.
    A black monkey with a creamy white mask scolded the group below from its perch in the safety of the tree balconies. It screeched to make itself known over the hypnotic beat of the drums. The agitated creature paced back and forth in its nest. The captive was about to reach the clearing when the music stopped rapidly, leaving the monkey chattering in the sudden silence until it gave up and darted up the branches.
    Just as the cluster was about to breach the crowd his eyes glimpse a stunning young woman, her eyes saddened as she to spots him. There was an overwhelming sense of loss in the look they gave each other. They continued their silent good-byes as he approached the flames. Her skin was by far the lightest brown in the crowd, her eyes a pale brown that blazoned with fear. Her hip-length black hair swept at her sides, beautifully colored feathers were weaved delicately into the random tiny braids. Her hand lowered to her swollen belly as she tried to console the tiny little kicks coming from within. Her lips trembled as her eyes misted with pain. He turned away from her, putting his focus on the fire and his nearing termination. A man flocked with multicolored feathers of exotic birds approached him; he had the aged look of a chieftain. As the old chief passed by the pregnant woman he purposely avoided any contact with her as she reached out to him pleadingly.
    The inhumanly pale creature tensed with rekindled vigor as death approached. His fists clenched, skin stretched tight over his bony knuckles. His sweat glistened chest began to move up and down rapidly, stomach flexing with the beat of his pounding heart. The chieftain stopped rapidly so close to the white haired man their noses grazed each others. Pure and seething hatred etched in every line of the old mans face, dark eyes smoldering like burnt coals. For several painstakingly long minutes they stood there, the air thick and dank. The chieftain reached down to his makeshift belt and grasped a carved dagger made of a black glossy substance.
    The doomed man tore his eyes from his potential assailant to have one last glimpse at the woman carrying his successor. She sobbed mournfully, unable to take her eyes away from him. He stared at her with his intense jade eyes, not wanting to forget the image of her in the afterlife. Her hand reached up to grasp the silver necklace encased in its tiny intricate designs of a buck the sharply blue stone glowing opalescent in the evening light. Memories flooded them both as they turned their attention to the gemstone. His smile gave way to tiny white sharpened teeth peeking out from under his lip.
    With surpassing speed the chieftains’ blade burst through the skin and hard muscle of the man, dark blood instantly began to flow from the entry wound. His green eyes widened with shock yet still he held his gaze on the woman. She burst into a fit of screaming tears, his hand reached out to her hopelessly. With a harsh, unmerciful jerk the dagger was drawn out. Blood already pooling out on the ground, a nearby native shoved him into the flames. The fire roared around him, an intense and numbing heat engulfed his entire body as he screamed frantically, desperate to relieve himself of the flames yet unable to bring himself to face the pain enough to do so. The last image he saw as he relinquished himself to hell was the image of the natives staring in cold stiffness and the millions of bright stars overhead peaking through the smoke.