Another flash fiction

I thought it was about time to write another quick story, cheers!

It was a cold day, a brooding dark sky and a creeping frigid wind. The sun gloomily shined on the rolling hills below, the brown dying grass was patched by mud and snow. My sister and I clad in our winter wool coats and battered jeans marched threw the melting snow and mud. It would be spring in a month and winter sure did die ugly. Eventually in the distance I could see the tree we subconsciously had been seeking. The halfway marker of our journey and the site of many childhood memories. Today it served as nostalgia and a reminder of the steps ahead. But as we approached that old bare twisted tree something hang from the thickest branch. It looked to be some kind of sack but my sister was the first to scream as we approached. That silhouette just dangling in the gray light of the sun was a sight I hope to never bare again. At first we panicked and thought about running to back to the village but our curiosity got the best of us. A potato bag was tightly wrapped on the mans face, his clothing was tattered and filthy just barely staying on his body. I examined the body as my sister stood back in terror, she didn't say a word. Tearing the shirt off revealed a deep and wide wound on the mans ribcage.
“Why would someone stab and hang him?” She whimpered quietly.
“Maybe its a display. You know what its like nowadays.” I really didn't know what it was like myself, I simply remembered the ritualistic killing nearly two months ago. A man had been found crucified onto his barn door, a chilling thought. Again i thought about warning the nightwatchmen but I knew he would just scratch his head and say we better clean this up. Further inspection of the site revealed, well, blood. Lots of blood, it was clear this man had been stabbed with something then hung. I looked out into the distance for a moment when something caught my eye. I ran to the object that lay just at the base of the hill. It was a sword a broadsword to be exact. It was shining red and seemed quite mangled. I thought for a moment and ran back to the man. I pulled out my small hunting knife and climbed up to the thick branch. I looked over at my sister who sat on the ground with her face buried into her arms. I cut the old rope and she jumped at the sound of the thump. We peered over the man for a moment and I pulled the bag away. It was the nightwatchmen and it was time to go home.