Ooc; Short story. I'll add more shortly. :) This is a background for one of my characters. I hope there isn't anything inappropriate...I don't think anything's happened yet that is. xD;

Die!

Witch!

Infidel of hell!

The chant echoed across the frozen square, carried by the shifting squalls of the moon season. Dark clouds floated overhead, casting a sombre shadow over the crowded cobblestone streets of Westmoore. In the plaza the throng of people stamped and clapped their hands in tune to the death-beat, eyes bright and expectant as they all focused on the wooden stage at the far end of the square.

On the scaffolding sat four tall stakes, brush and wood piled beneath. Standing next to each of the stakes was a hooded man holding a flaming torch. The fire glimmered and threatened to blow out as the winds dared not to calm their tumultuous movement. Waiting impatiently the crowd fluxed and surged at random, nearly all dressed in black. Not as a sign of mourning, but to differentiate themselves from those to be burned at stake this day.

They wore white, the colour of betrayal and otherworldly things. And perhaps, innocence? No, this trial was not for the pure or clean.

At the front of the crowd stood a small figure, head bowed. A heavy black cloak encased her still form. The peaked hood moved as the silhouette raised her head and stared up at the dais. Piercing blue eyes were cold as they peered out from beneath the shadows of the cowl. Thin lips were pulled into a frown and beneath the cloak pale fingers knotted worriedly. Luminous beads of liquid shivered on her cheeks, slowly slipping down until they crested the girl’s stubborn chin.

There was a moment of clarity as the droplet hung for a moment, glistening in the dusky light, before it tumbled free. Free-falling it keeled round and round before it splashed onto the rough cobblestones. More falling stars followed close behind, the water staining the flagstones an inky colour.

Then a great shout arose from the masses and wild cheers resounded around the city as the torches were raised high in tight fists. The clamour grew and grew until it rolled like thunder, crushing any in its path that opposed it.

The child let out a choked sob but was lost in the rising pandemonium. Twisting her head she looked at the stakes to the far right, blue eyes now bright and lost. Tears formed at the creases of her eyes and she blinked them away, sniffling.

A loud shout stopped the discord within moments and soon all eyes were trained on a powerfully built man standing on the rostrum. He cleared his throat roughly before speaking.

Friends, friends, calm yourselves. You would not want to miss such a spectacle -you would be missing a momentous day!