The Morning of a Fierce Battle...My Thoughts

Listen to the drums in the distance. Skin stretched over bone of ancient beasts. Bronze shields reflecting the morning sunrise. The smoke of extinguished campfires. Our swords are sharp and our archers have the high ground. Elms sway in the distance. Earthworks have been built. Ready for battle. Their armies will come no closer to our homeland. Horses snort, their masters holding the reigns and speaking words into the beast ears of the nervous creatures.

In the distance, giants, their knees taller than the men they camp with. You can make out their crested helmets, their axes glint in the sun, the skulls of men strung around their necks like beads, a necklace, a warning. They are not immortal, though, giant, though they eat the flesh of men and drink beer by the keg instead of by the pint. An arrow between the eyes will kill one. On our side, we have witches, their black tresses falling to their shoulder, they pass one eye among them and take turns seeing, but with a word they can pronounce a giant dead, or a man, and the victim has no choice but to obey and die.

I fear one of them has put a charm on me because I cannot stop looking at her, her white shoulders, the curve of her hips, her strange and wonderful lips. Yet, where her eyes should be, there is nothing but smooth indentation. Sometimes, I dream of this creature and it is terrifying.

Horns blast. Dust clouds from a thousand hooves. The archers wait till the enemy cavalry is within range. The battle begins.