You try to fight, to get away from the laughing Shadows who force you to your knees. Somewhere along the line, your shirt is torn from your body and lost to the sea of Shadows surrounding you. Out of the corner of your eye, you see a Shadow approach, wielding a red-hot cow brand.

It happens in less than a minute, but the pain in your shoulder is blinding. Your scream goes unanswered.

You lay on the ground, crying as pain overwhelms you.

"Poor bastard." A warm hand cups your cheek.