Standing alone on top of a giant hill that sits at the edge of a small valley, a warrior looks over the battle field. Now littered with the bloody bodies of fallen soldiers, alley and enemy alike, this battle signified the end of the war. The warrior stood, breathing heavily, sword and armor covered in crimson. Some said that the warrior was a hero but there is no glory in slaying people in a war that should have never happened. Another knight walks up the hill, his armor creaking with each step. "Al it's time to go." The knight waited while the warrior took one last look at the battle field. Al reached up and pulled off her helmet. Long blonde hair fell out in waves. Sweat covered her brow and she looked at her friend. She gave a small nod and sheathed the bloody blade back into it's sheath. Her armor cried out in the strain from the rust in it's joints as she moved. She walked up to her black steed and climbed abound it's back. She looked over her small troop, those left alive badly injured. She lead her friend's and fellow knights off the battle field with the promise of home.
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AuthorEmma Schroeder is 17 years old, a senior at Taylorsville High School, and lives in Taylorsville, UT. Archives
November 2015
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