I wrote a short intro to a story I'm planning. I don't think it's good, but I'm interested in others input.
An afternoon taking part, a sun beamed, penetrating each tree of the thick wood. Down the path of tired grass, walked a woman of kind personality. She was a short woman of old age, wrinkled with deep brown eyes that have seen the days of both prosperity and treachery. Humbly, she kindly made her weekly route, down the hour walk to a house she knew too well.
Her husband, a farmer, her son, a hunter. She made her route to deliver food to her son who she believed, "could not feed a soon to be growing family on a rare hunt". The path turned cobble as she approached the cabin nestled in the hillside. Silly she thought, that her son Vulderin moved so far out, to be closer to the hunt. "As if he loved dead wolves poking above the fireplace as tools of gloating more than family" she mumbled making her way to the house. There was not much decoration around the house. Excluding an old well that has been there long before the cabin's time. The stone steps to the door, she knocked, without answer.
The door swung open with a creak, the basket from her hands dropped. Moved to cover her mouth in horror. An indescribable scene. The basket hit the ground and bounced back up, giving way to the herbs and fruit it contained. A thud was heard by none except the old mother falling to her knees in a bawl. "By Valern's Talon" she said in a surprised sigh naming a dragon of old folk tale.
A number of flies buzz about the scene of two mutilated bodies of husband and wife. Blood sketched runes run across the walls. Bookshelves, tables, and chairs lie scattered on the ground. A well cooked roast lie tattered on the floor and half eaten as if gouged by an animal of sort. Among other foods, as if a dinner had been prepared for this horror. The mother known as Aledria let out a wail that made even the hawks flee from their perch.
