A lone soldier kneeling in the aftermath of battle, bodies strewn over the fields, dead, dieing. He plunges his sword into the earth and rests his weary head on the hilt, relishing the much needed rest. He takes off his helmet and let's it fall beside him, sweat pouring down his face, dripping from his hair. Then something else mixes with the sweat, it cleans the grime and dirt from his face. His chest and back heaves... as he weeps.
"So much death" He thinks to himself. Then he hears it, the drum beat and heavy steps of another wave.
He reaches down and grabs his helmet, wipes the mud off it and puts it back on. He grunts as he stands back up, pulling his sword out of the ground and picking up his shield.
"Father, give me strength." He whispers. He turns as he hears something moving, and gasps silently.
All over the field, people like him are getting back up. Men and women who he fought beside, getting up and preparing as he did. He smiles to himself, and looks at the approaching force.
"Father, give US strength!" He prays.
to be continued...
"So much death" He thinks to himself. Then he hears it, the drum beat and heavy steps of another wave.
He reaches down and grabs his helmet, wipes the mud off it and puts it back on. He grunts as he stands back up, pulling his sword out of the ground and picking up his shield.
"Father, give me strength." He whispers. He turns as he hears something moving, and gasps silently.
All over the field, people like him are getting back up. Men and women who he fought beside, getting up and preparing as he did. He smiles to himself, and looks at the approaching force.
"Father, give US strength!" He prays.
to be continued...