Ilse and Eva looked over the terrain on the other side of the omenpath. A small town in the Therosian countryside, separated from the skaab by a copse of trees. A small, blue homunculus stood beside them.
"Remind me what Father said?" From Eva to the homunculus.
"We are in territory around the polis of Akros, yes. This town is to be harvested for Father. No escapees. Fodor knows, yes."
Eva nodded, her cheek scraping her sister's. Their usual cheery demeanor had long since gone, replaced with a solemn quiet. The homunculus barked an order in Innistradi and several more skaabs exited the omenpath.
While more intelligent than the normal skaab of Innistrad, these ones were not capable of speech. But they did hunger. And as the small detachment of stitched zombies amassed on top of the hill, Ilse and Eva took flight.
They watched from above, meant as they were to prevent anyone from fleeing as Fodor threw fire onto roofs, and into doors, and the skaabs chased down and slaughtered the farmers, fishermen, and guards.
A family of three, a father and two children were taking a path through the darkened fields. And the stitched angel landed before them.
The father locked eyes with them, fear and disgust written on his face.
The sisters looked back, somber.
As one they spoke. "Go." The father and his children turned and ran further into the fields, escaping the destruction of their home.