We drew our swords and shouted, charging forwards. My heart pounded, the drums pounded. Beat beat beat. My feet pounded on the ground. We met the enemy army, then there was no turning back at all.
I had trained for many years, and though I was afraid I could never think we would not win. We danced, hatred, fear, anger pulsed through my veins with – or instead of? – my blood. Clash, rise, run, block. A dance of hate. A moment lost and I would fall. Some of my friends had already fallen, but I had no time too look, only feel their absence. I fought the pain as I fought my enemies.
Clash, rise, run, block.
Beat, beat, beat.
All around there was carnage; blood, terror, death. I could not see straight for the terror. But I could not fall, I had to give my all. We had to be victorious – or else our enemy would take our land.
I fought through the pain, fought over the carnage, through the blood. There were still warriors behind and before me, still my army and the enemy. We came together, and charged again, until the enemy blocked us but we fought through the red and black of pain. We fought together until us left.
We won, but at great cost of life. I looked back and saw many of my friends were dead. Silence filled my heart as I looked over the battlefield, the pain shattering like rain.