Preparation.

From within the vantage point of this little cave, I can look down the long valley to the quiet slumbering village a few miles below. The thin wisp of smoke trailing up and away from my campfire into the dense cold air of the mountain is nothing. I've been hibernating for over a week now, trying to comprehend the messages God has been sending me.

This village will be emptied of life soon, and I, its deliverance. Sinners all.

My dreams have been awkward lately, filled with images and structures I do not understand: a woman, half-crazed and alone being torn apart by the gnashing teeth and fangs of wolves. A contented man in some dark age sliding gracefully across a frozen pond while his woman looks on in admiration. A young man, surrounded by containers of some kind of humming, buzzing insect is fighting for breath in a battle against a green-colored demon. He is me, but looks like another. I fight with him, feeling an unexpected kinship, helping him dispatch the beast before it consumes him. The man is strong hearted, but weakened by his long exertions. We part as brothers as I wake to the soft noises of this cave and the small creatures that have gathered around me in the night, seeking warmth.

A group of hunters from the village sets out in my general direction early this morning. They are my first quarry. They will never return. Soon, others will depart, looking for the first party, and I will sever their heads from their bodies. The final villagers, unsure of why their members are not returning home will be greeted by my presence, come to remind them of the price of infidelity to their Lord. That dream was given a week ago, and it was terribly clear.

The leather of my gloves creaks in the cold as my hand tightens around my weapon. It's gleam is strong from the sharpening I've been giving it. Tonight I will be ready, and tonight my terrible work begins. Lord, the prior weeks of rest have prepared me. My vacation from solace begins tonight.