Intrusion

"We don' want you around ere" she said. The words felt hostile and ignorant. We were simply trying to save them, to defend their village from aggressors. We had no need to, it wasn't a mission required of us, we just happened upon the active ransacking of their village on the way to Cinquedea. A local mafioso was attempting to impose its will on them, forcing currency out of them through violent method. I was the first to catch a glimpse of a girl, not more than five years of age being handled. Her taker, a Mudono, held her by the wrist and was guiding her to an end housing, long since abandoned and positioned on the end of the row. When my eyes met hers, i knew what had to be done. I left from our caravan, sprinting across the field wielding my twelve cutter. I reached the door, which in reality was nothing more than a warped piece of wood dangling from a single hinge, and arrived to find the her tear stained face screaming as he held her hands. Murder was in my eyes, I ached the possibility of beheading him where he stood but resigned myself to my position and unkindly removed him from the building. Being Mudono, his leadership status was evident by the Caroko skull on his shoulder. Seeing this, I dragged him to the square, in view of the other mafiostas and proceeded to fisticuff him mercilessly. I left him breathing, though barely, and in the hands of the locals. A mafioso doesn't function without their leader, so they scattered, like so much filth in the wind. Expecting a thank you, I instead received insults and sediment, a heft combination for a modest soldier. At the time I felt disdain for them and for their horrid response to what I felt was gallantry. Now I realize what it meant. A single act doesn't compensate for years of being ignored, cast aside by the State and left to fend for themselves. A single act can break a heart. The same cannot be said of healing it.