Her white dress fluttered in the breeze as she struggled for breath. The rope slowly cut into her neck all the more deeply. Her hands leaped wildly at the knot in a last desperate attempt to pull it apart but to no avail. Clumsily her arms fell to her sides and her kicks slowly ground to a halt. With a last expiating breath her movements stilled. Her shadow swung slowly in the light breeze.
She had chosen her own sentence but it had been too late. Her choice in destroying those who had hurt her and those she cared for had led to her to losing her humanity. To becoming a demon; an avenging spirit. The cry of an infant echoed out in the stillness. Her dead white eyes snapped open and looked down to see the newborn boy hanging below her like the pendulum of a clock. A broken cry escaped her lips as a tall and ancient man with a single eye exposed strode forth and plucked the child from her.
As he cleared the blood and mucus from the child’s eyes and throat, he uttered the words and the child’s fate was sealed.
“Born of a demon on the hanging tree, a new hunter is born.”
Jon Gray Lang.com 