I spent the past week writing and scrapping three different stories. I wrote this up in maybe an hour and found it better than everything else I had touched. Think on that for a second.
Pain rippled through him as he pulled the final arrow from his shoulder. Blood stained the silver mail across his chest and now painted the grass beneath his feet. He was tired. Falling backwards, his body found a tree and slumped against it. He felt himself slide down.
He dropped his sabre some time ago, but that meant nothing. The fighting was done and so was he. The roar of the other army, the whistling of the arrows, the howls of the dogs; it was all gone now. Men, his men, would come looking for him and other survivors in the wood. It would do no good.
Desperately, he fished through his pockets until he found what he was looking for. With one blood-stained gauntlet, he pulled out the hairpins given to him before he left for battle. Noelle was her name. Everything else, from her hair to her smile to the way she breathed when making love, all faded from him.
The forest was quiet. With the battle passing, the birds sang uninterrupted. Wind brushed against the leaves of the sycamores to his left. Flowers spread their petals in the warm sun, welcoming butterflies and bees as they buzzed and beat their wings about him. Tranquility was in the air once more. Yet, soon these sounds would be joined by the last sigh of a dying man.
Second attempt at a medieval setting. Must be because I'm obsessively reading the Song of Ice and Fire series.
See you next time,