Pack secured around his frame, cloak pulled tight around his form, he gazed back onto the dunes of Wind Country. The village needed him to investigate an attack on an outlying territory. Unlike other countries, Sunagakure couldn't have constant patrols to the other village on the outskirts of the country due to the danger of traveling. When something happened all they could do was send aid in the form of ninja or supplies, but this time around it was an investigation that had been called. The claims that managed to get back to the village were most unnerving and demanded action. Boukiri, the village in question, was one he had stopped at both times he had come and gone from the country. The people had been quite hospitable and he had even helped reinforce their homes for the coming sandstorm season. His stomach churned at the thought of those innocent families coming to harm in such a grizzly manner.
Nodding to the guards on duty, they closed the maw behind him and he ventured out into the sand, his form distorted in the heavy winds and wispy garment wrapped about him. He knew the stops, the safe havens he could pause at when he needed to. This would be a day's trek if he rushed it and didn't get caught up by any of the weather.
~*~
He stood on a dune just overlooking the village, seeing the swinging doors of empty houses and the desolate streets of a normally buzzing village. Boukiri was a midway village. One that offered shelter, food, and water to travels passing through. They also acted as a checkpoint for imported and exported goods. The type of attack clearly meant it wasn't a military operation from another shinobi village.
Taking in a deep breath, he descended upon the village fists clenched and nerves on guard. Immediately he could spot dark stains upon the clay walls of homes. Since they weren't as far in-land as other villages, the sand hadn't swallowed up all the evidence. An object bumped up against his boot. Kneeling down he picked it up part way and discovered it to be a child's doll. As he kept pulling it revealed that there was still a small hand clinging onto it. The arm looked like it had been ripped from its socket. Decay had a chance to set in, but the bite in the bicep looked pretty human. Uri's insides twisted up into a knot. Waving his hand, he created an indention in the earth and set the child's arm there, burying it afterwards.
The story was the same in the rest of the village. Gore preserved within the homes, blood stains and bloody hand prints dragged across clean walls.
This village wasn't one of fighters or ninja. They were workers that had normal lives that didn't cause harm to those they met, but instead improve it. The ones responsible for the carnage had picked such an innocent village to slaughter. Part of Uri had wanted this to be a crazy story, for it all to be the rantings of someone who had been out in the sun for too long. Unfortunately that hadn't been the case and these people were still out in the sands, looking for more bystanders to consume. Rummaging through another few homes he managed to find foot prints in the dust. Anyone out there knew better than to go about barefoot, except for perhaps the occasional child, and there were far too large to have come from someone small. Each time he discovered the tracks within a home they all turned out in the same direction. This eventually had him facing east, from the direction he had come. These people, whatever they were, set their sights deeper into the heart of Wind Country. Hopefully Mother Suna would see these deviants and allow the storms to devour them and their sin. If not, Mother help the next village they stumble across.
Knowing these people were out there, he would make sure to bring attention to the matter. Hunting teams would need to be sent out, teams capable of killing dangerous adversaries and who knew how to travels in the sands. Perhaps even seeking assistance in other means would also be advisable. The reports said they seemed more than human, different from shinobi, that they were a monster known had ever heard of.
Uri buried the body parts he could find -never managing to find enough pieces to make a single whole body- and headed back into the sands towards his home.
[Word Count: 761]
Nodding to the guards on duty, they closed the maw behind him and he ventured out into the sand, his form distorted in the heavy winds and wispy garment wrapped about him. He knew the stops, the safe havens he could pause at when he needed to. This would be a day's trek if he rushed it and didn't get caught up by any of the weather.
~*~
He stood on a dune just overlooking the village, seeing the swinging doors of empty houses and the desolate streets of a normally buzzing village. Boukiri was a midway village. One that offered shelter, food, and water to travels passing through. They also acted as a checkpoint for imported and exported goods. The type of attack clearly meant it wasn't a military operation from another shinobi village.
Taking in a deep breath, he descended upon the village fists clenched and nerves on guard. Immediately he could spot dark stains upon the clay walls of homes. Since they weren't as far in-land as other villages, the sand hadn't swallowed up all the evidence. An object bumped up against his boot. Kneeling down he picked it up part way and discovered it to be a child's doll. As he kept pulling it revealed that there was still a small hand clinging onto it. The arm looked like it had been ripped from its socket. Decay had a chance to set in, but the bite in the bicep looked pretty human. Uri's insides twisted up into a knot. Waving his hand, he created an indention in the earth and set the child's arm there, burying it afterwards.
The story was the same in the rest of the village. Gore preserved within the homes, blood stains and bloody hand prints dragged across clean walls.
This village wasn't one of fighters or ninja. They were workers that had normal lives that didn't cause harm to those they met, but instead improve it. The ones responsible for the carnage had picked such an innocent village to slaughter. Part of Uri had wanted this to be a crazy story, for it all to be the rantings of someone who had been out in the sun for too long. Unfortunately that hadn't been the case and these people were still out in the sands, looking for more bystanders to consume. Rummaging through another few homes he managed to find foot prints in the dust. Anyone out there knew better than to go about barefoot, except for perhaps the occasional child, and there were far too large to have come from someone small. Each time he discovered the tracks within a home they all turned out in the same direction. This eventually had him facing east, from the direction he had come. These people, whatever they were, set their sights deeper into the heart of Wind Country. Hopefully Mother Suna would see these deviants and allow the storms to devour them and their sin. If not, Mother help the next village they stumble across.
Knowing these people were out there, he would make sure to bring attention to the matter. Hunting teams would need to be sent out, teams capable of killing dangerous adversaries and who knew how to travels in the sands. Perhaps even seeking assistance in other means would also be advisable. The reports said they seemed more than human, different from shinobi, that they were a monster known had ever heard of.
Uri buried the body parts he could find -never managing to find enough pieces to make a single whole body- and headed back into the sands towards his home.
[Word Count: 761]