It was a bird that she could be sure, it had a broken wing and died on her cabin's windowsill. The giggles of little snot nosed children could be heard. It was easy for her track them, the trees saw all and through them so did she.
When she found them, they were playing with another bird corpse, one was clearly the ringleader, egging the others on. As she approached the ringleader, a kid no older than twelve, clad in expensive clothing chattered on to the others "Oh look fellas, it's the woods harlot." All the while throwing insults the kid was tossing a large stick from hand to hand.
"You cherish your strength, your size." A statement not a question, the boy tilted his head at Colette as if he wasn't expecting her to see the...