She sat on the roof of the old house, looking up at the constellations that danced in the dark blue sky over the crest of the hills. The baying of hounds came ever closer, accompanied by the glow of torches and the roar of the mob.
“Forgive them,” she whispered to the stars and closed her eyes as the flames began to climb.
This is for Three Line Tales. Thanks to Sonya for running the challenge and Thomas Shellberg for providing the prompt photo!