Choice at Sunrise

"The sound of clashing swords ringing metal against metal, singing songs of death. Cries and screams of intimidation and strain. A few horses neighed. Powerful commands to drive forward. Harsh and thick words of a foreign tongue. The full twang of arrows. The dull metallic thud of swords against the shields of his comrades. The metallic thrum ringing out in return when a sword met a shield of the enemy.

But all that was second to the sun rising above the valley. It's golden hue in the twilight creating a world of swirling pink clouds. The color of cheeks tinted in a blush of love. The sky no longer a deep black but a light lilac. A color he may have once wished to bestow on a fair maid: if he had kept one long enough to wait for him. The trees were a deep inky black: still clinging to the thought of night. The grass and flowers were stained in the same manner.

It was as if the night and morning were fighting a battle as well. One that would show the beauty of nature in an attempt to lighten the marred humanity around him. It was beautiful."

Dettagli