Harvest

The murderer was getting closer.
He kept absolutely still as the footsteps got louder.
And closer.
He repeated the same warning that he had just heard...
And closer.
... and threatened the murderer.
Too close.
He yelled his pain and fear as the murderer broke him in half.
Just to move on, to the next innocent victim.
"Why?" he wondered for days as what was left of them bled and rot on the ground. What had got into his only protector, to come and killed them just as he had killed all of their enemies?
"Why?" Why would someone nurture you from seed, and fight even the summer for your life, just to kill you in the end?
"Why?" Why?
"W..." He became soil, he would feed the next crops.

A prompt full of potential and all could think about was that story about a very important boy having dinner with an even more important lady... which, btw, I don't know where I published.