She stood at the edge of the clearing and ran her eyes over the fallen bodies littering the ground. It had rained the night before, leaving a muddy foundation for the men to struggle upon. Churned earth created small hills and valleys peppered with the usual remnants of battle. She gloried in the gloom and grit.
Flicking the edge of a tattered shirt sleeve from her path with one shoe, she picked her way among bloody corpses until she was in the center of the chaos. Satisfaction bloomed in her chest as she watched the carrion birds start their feeding. It was a welcome respite from the cold shards of anger she'd been carrying.
The man whose army lay slaughtered before her would surely feel the cut of her victory. She vowed it would be the first of many to come.
The hair at the back of her neck suddenly prickled. She scanned the horizon, icy anticipation causing her breath to quicken. For a moment she thought it was a mistake, until a murky figure stepped out from behind a tree in the distance. Even through the shadows she could tell it was him. The man who'd promised her a future of brilliance. The man who'd whispered sweet beauty into her ears. The man who'd made her believe again.
The man who'd taken it all away in one abrupt moment.
A ball of hatred curled in her stomach. A ball so tight and so furious there was no way to squash it. And she didn't want to. It breathed a familiar life into her she'd once thought gone.
What was the old saying? Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned?
Across the field of death, she smiled at him.
She'd make him believe it.