As they approached the sacred place the child gazed at his father, bewildered.
“But I don’t understand why.”
“We must never forsake tradition,” came the father’s reproach, “for without it, we are nothing.”
Then, without another word, he flung himself over the cliff.
“Are you sure this is the last of them?” The hunkered man paused as the leader spoke.
A wisp of smoke rose. He shuffled his hands, quicker now.
“We’ll erase the last memory of their way of life, my liege.”
A spear struck the ground. An onlooking battalion began to chant.