Barbarian raid

The cold afternoon wind carried with it the unmistakable scent of misery. Xu Anping, sitting beside his mother and his sister Xu Sanhua, could barely remember what a full meal felt like. The last few days had been an endless cycle of hunger and despair. Every breath reminded them of the life slowly slipping from their bodies. The sound of their empty stomachs competed with the silence outside, broken only by the occasional whisper of the wind.

There wasn't much left to do but wait. Hunger had ravaged their village, and its inhabitants, weak and ghost-like shadows of their former selves, had long since stopped fighting. Xu Anping felt the emptiness grow inside him, not just in his stomach, but in his soul. A crushing sadness enveloped him, robbing him even of the hope of survival.

Suddenly, the silence was broken by a disturbing sound. At first, Xu Anping wasn't sure what he was hearing, but the steady rhythm and the dry crunch of the earth under the weight of horses' hooves became clearer. His mother stood up immediately, her tired eyes shining with an intensity he hadn't seen in weeks.

"Anping!" she whispered urgently, approaching quickly. "Hide! You and Sanhua, hide in the cellar, quickly."

Xu Anping blinked, confused, as his mother rushed to grab an old hoe leaning against the wall. It was the only weapon they had, an object meant for working the land, not for fighting.

"What's happening?" Xu Anping asked, but his mother didn't look at him. With the hoe in her hands, she was already opening the door, preparing to go outside.

"They're barbarians," she said in a low voice, her tone filled with a cold determination Xu Anping had never heard from her before. "Do as I say!"

Xu Sanhua, his sister, tugged at his sleeve, already terrified. With no other choice, Xu Anping quickly followed her to the cellar. The small underground space, which had once been filled with food to survive the winter, was now empty, just like their stomachs. It was dark, barely illuminated by a faint ray of light filtering through the trapdoor above.

Both crouched on the ground, pressed tightly against each other. The cold from the dirt floor seeped into their bodies as fear began to take hold. Xu Anping felt his sister trembling beside him, but he didn't dare speak. He knew that any sound could seal their fate.

Above, the creak of the door opening echoed through the house. Xu Anping could hear his mother step outside, the slight scrape of the hoe dragging across the floor. Outside, the horses' hooves had stopped. He was breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he strained to listen to what was happening.

The first screams began, distant but unmistakable. Men's voices, weak and scared, trying to raise makeshift weapons against what they knew was an unbeatable enemy. The barbarians, with their bodies covered in furs and their eyes cold and devoid of compassion, had already ravaged other villages, and Xu Anping knew the stories. They had no mercy. They left no survivors except those they found useful. In times of hunger, the bodies of the dead became provisions, and women became entertainment and food for the future.

A guttural roar echoed in the distance, followed by a wet, dull sound. The village's resistance was quickly crumbling. Xu Anping tried not to imagine what was happening outside, but the screams were impossible to ignore.

"Anping..." Xu Sanhua whispered, clinging tightly to him. Her voice was barely audible, but it was filled with terror.

He held her tighter, fearing that his own desperation would overwhelm her. He tried to focus on the present, on the rapid beat of his heart and the sound of his sister's breathing, while blocking out the horrors occurring outside.

Soon after, the sounds of the fight grew closer to their house. A high-pitched scream, followed by a sharp thud, echoed through the wooden walls. Xu Anping's heart stopped for a moment. It was his mother's voice. He wanted to go out, to help her, but he knew he couldn't. The only thing he could do was silently pray, hoping she had somehow managed to escape, though he knew it was unlikely.

The silence that followed was even worse. It was a silence loaded with meaning, a silence Xu Anping knew he would never forget. He closed his eyes tightly, wishing it were all a nightmare, but the sounds outside continued, and the heavy footsteps were getting closer and closer.

The barbarians moved with brutal efficiency, and the chaos they brought consumed the village completely. All Xu Anping could do was hold on to his sister, who was so petrified that she could barely breathe. The cellar, cold and dark, had become their only protection, but also their prison. They were trapped there, with no chance of escape, hoping the barbarians wouldn't find them.

The screams went on for what felt like an eternity. Time had stopped for Xu Anping. Outside, the barbarians weren't just pillaging what little was left, they were also turning the villagers into their next meal. He knew what they did with the bodies of the dead. There were no corpses left in the villages they conquered; only bones and the smell of smoke from fires where the meat was cooked to satisfy their own hunger.

As the hours passed, the screams of the villagers, at first so numerous and heart-wrenching, began to fade. First, the men and children went silent, their voices snuffed out in an ominous quiet. Then, the screams of the women, desperate and terrified, were the only sounds that echoed through the village. Xu Anping couldn't stop imagining what was happening to them. He knew they would be taken, used as emergency provisions or worse on the long journey back to the barbarian lands.

Finally, night fell. Trapped in the cellar, Xu Anping and Xu Sanhua's fear didn't lessen, but their weak bodies began to succumb to exhaustion. Xu Sanhua's tears had stopped, and her breathing grew heavier. Anping held her, staying awake out of sheer terror, listening for any sound that might indicate the barbarians were still nearby.

It was an endless night. The horses' hooves, distant murmurs, and the crackling of bones in fires came as faint echoes to the cellar. Xu Anping felt that each sound was a prelude to their discovery, that at any moment the barbarians would open the door and find him and his sister. But those sounds too began to fade, little by little, until only the heavy silence of the night remained.

When dawn finally arrived, an eerie silence blanketed the village. Xu Anping was still holding Xu Sanhua, but he knew they would have to leave eventually. He listened carefully, hoping for any sound that might indicate the barbarians were still nearby, but heard nothing except the whisper of the wind.

Cautiously, he pushed open the cellar door. He peeked out, squinting his eyes against the light. The cold morning air carried with it the smell of burning and something else, something darker and more nauseating. He saw no one. The barbarians were gone.