Joanne’s POV
It was a boy.
He was so small. Thin and short in stature, he couldn’t have been older than 10, though he looked so much younger. He was curled in on himself beneath a half-fallen tree. His skin was streaked with soot and ash, his shirt torn nearly to ribbons. His hands trembled where they clutched the earth, fingers caked in dirt and blood.
It was at that moment that the soldier trailing me noticed what I was staring at, and his eyes widened.
“Oh, f**k,” he breathed. “We trailed too close to the north. We need to head back.”
I could smell the smoke from the nearby village in the distance, and my heart lurched. It had to be the village that was raided during the night; the one Alexander had rushed to with a handful of soldiers.
“And leave him?” I asked, turning to lo
