They heard the woman giving a short cry of pain, and when the sound of the weeping nine-year-old boy pleading with the man to stop came through the wall, Ove went outside and stood in front of his house.
The shouts and cries, the groans of the wounded and the dying, the clang of blows struck in the fierceness of deadly hate, made a noise which it was hideous to hear.
With a gasp, Harry pulled back and opened his eyes at the same moment his ears were assaulted with the screeches and cries, the smashes and bangs of battle.