The cool breeze gently rustled through her hair, and her wet clothes, awakening her from her sleep. Her heart skipped a beat, as she sat up abruptly, wondering where she was. She looked out across the ocean, the waves crashing in softly, and at the moonlight glittering through the water. She only had a few moments to enjoy that beautiful scene, before the chill, the biting cold, of that night had sunk into her. She shivered, clenching her arms tightly around herself. She thought back to what had happened, that led her to be here. It took a few moments before the memories started flooding into her head. She recalled the burning, she recalled the cloaked figures. The image in her mind of a little boy being trampled by a horse sent a fierce shiver down her spine, that even this cold could not do. She jumped up to her feet, now realizing the urgency of this situation. It seemed to be such a peaceful night. No one would have imagined that on this very night hundreds of innocent people were mercilessly slaughtered. How had she gotten away? She tried to remember. All she could remember was the flames, and thinking ‘just keep running, just keep running…’ everything had happened so fast, only her instincts kept her going, before she collapsed down beside the ocean. She got up and crept back quietly, in the direction of her village, hoping for the best. She searched for the top of that old red barn that always marked the village to anyone along the oceanfront. She couldn’t see it. Her heart was pounding faster as she picked up her pace, all of her false hopes washing away before her eyes. She approached warily, and the sight was even more then her mind could have ever fathomed. It was a gruesome bloodbath. Every house was burnt to the ground, except for the one or two that survived the fire, but were still charred from the blaze. She started sobbing as she headed into the town, throwing any precaution she had aside, as she saw dead bodies of relatives and neighbors. She recognized one of her old friends who she had known from childhood. They always used to play together, frivolous games like dress up, and imagining that they both ruled the town. This same woman now lay dead upon the ground, dagger wounds all throughout her body. She knew she couldn’t go any further. She just couldn’t bear to see anymore. She didn’t want to see what had happened to her family, her house. So the woman dropped to the ground and cried. She cried until her sobs became hysterical, contorted gasps for air. She called for help, throwing caution to the wind and called for her family. She looked up and saw a figure came out from one of the burnt houses, and held its hand out to her.

This is unedited and should probably be broken into multiple paragraphs.
Suggestions?