For the first week in almost a month the witch living on the outskirts of town wasn't attacked by the villagers.  They wanted to drive her off the land, or kill her and free their town of a supposed curse they thought she had put on them.  Up until now she had been able to fend them off, but they were getting closer.  She found the reason that they hadn't attacked this week when she heard the drums of war off in the distance.  By the late afternoon the drums, war crys, and clatter of steel, had died down.  The magic in the air and finally lessened to the point where it was clear the battle was over.<br/><br/>A young man limped from tree to tree in the forest on the outskirts of the battlefield.  He held his gashed side and tried to forget the pain coming from the arrow stuck in his right chest.  His lightheaded mind could only think about quenching his massive thirst from the steam only a few trees away, but as he made the second tree the light faded from his eyes and his eyes rolled into the back of his head as he passed out.  He fell against the tree and then rolled to the ground onto his back.  He lay there unconscious and slowly dying as the sun went down.