Magpie
One for sorrow The girl with the jet black hair was young, thirteen? Fourteen? It didn’t matter that much to the troops of the invading English, she was spoils of war. Not a trophy to be taken home, just another Welsh cunt to be used, abused, and re-used until they moved on. She’d been tending the sheep when the three soldiers, out looking for farms to rob, came across her. She’d been left in a little side-valley with the sheep in the hope the bastardiaid Saesneg wouldn’t find them. But these...