Ransacked

A village stands, silent, in the middle of nowhere. It is peaceful. Only the rustling of leaves to break the quiet. In the morning, the inhabitants will wake up. They will fetch water from the well, take care of the crops, fix all that need be fixed, and cook. That is the way of it. They are prosperous; they have peace and harmony with all. Until one day, when "visitors" came.

Jane rushed through the village, her purple dress billowing, calling: "Look! Look! Everyone! To the southeast! Many men and women! Coming this way! From the southeast!" The villagers loved visitors, and so they scrambled out of their humble abodes and gazed towards the southeast.
"They don't look like anyone we know," muttered Darren, a man in his twenties. He was right. They were off in the distance, so detail was hard to make out; but they wore the colors of the forest, and the villagers caught glimpses of silver too.
"You're prone to distrust! Lighten up, Darren." Jane admonished. He gave no answer, as he was straining to see better.
"It looks as though there are less of them now," he observed. Jane peered closer.
"You are right. I think I should go and greet them," she declared.
"Wait--" Darren said. But she was already racing away. She slowed a little when she neared, for the distance had been longer than she thought.
"Hello!" She said. "I am of Aveanne Village, which you are headed towards. Who might you be?" The one in front, a heavyset man in a pine-green and mud-brown hood, stepped forward.
"None of your business." He said. Jane, who was quite used to dealing with grumpy peoples, was unfazed.
"Are you perchance headed for a place other than Aveanne Village?" She inquired.
"We are headed for the place you come from." He grabbed her and shoved her, and she landed hard on the ground.
"Well, EXCUSE ME!" She yelled. "Who ARE you!"
"We are called many things." The man grinned wolfishly. "Vandals. Barbarians. But we prefer the term self-reliant."