112 Dispatching
Bǎo held her in his arms. He'd wrapped her in the soft blanket he had brought with him, ever hopeful she would still be alive. She trembled and moaned in her sleep, reliving the experiences of her ordeal. With each tremble Bǎo's anger grew. He couldn't hear any of the words being said around him, all he could hear was a rising tide of anger, of disgust, of abject hatred. Looking down into Xin's sleeping face, he made up his mind. Lying her down, gently by the fire, he stood up and grabbed a sword. The swordsman looked up but said nothing. He watched as Bǎo walked toward the hut and went inside. Talking outside fell away as the screams and pleading came from inside the place. Bǎo was dishing up his own retribution. Then a loud crash came from inside and the screaming became louder, more hysterical, the pleading even more urgent. Bǎo walked out leaving a deep, orange glow, growing behind him. As he walked away he didn't look back as the place erupted in flames, and ...