The beating of the drums became louder and more distinct as the warriors reached the crest of the first hill. There were thousands of them. I could see the light glinting off their armour when the few weak rays of sunshine caught them. The mist that hung in the valley below could prove problematic. We would not have much warning of a charge. I looked back towards our camp and decimated army. Only a fraction of our forces remained. Badly wounded already and scarecrows compared to the brave soldiers who had marched for months, despite the season and lack of supplies, we were not ready for this. Our commander had made a critical error. We would not survive this day.
Published by jenmcnaughton
Born in Scotland, I moved to Canada in 1980 with my family. I was 10. I became homesick in my 20's, and longed for my beloved Scotland. Happily, I recently returned home for good! I am a photographer, freelance writer and bestselling author, and entrepreneur. I am an animal lover and advocate. My other hobbies include exploring, collecting sea glass, reading and music. View more posts