Eight long and weary months away, my mind had weakened along with my body. The treacherous journey over the backside of Giovanni’s ridge was a brutal one. The wind was heavy, carrying with it the stench of burned enemy towns. I left my Princess to defend her, to defend our home, our land, to secure a future for our offspring, the first of which nourished within her belly.
The thump from each beat of my heart sent me bravely on, sweat poured from my brow as the roof of the castle came into view. I fell to my knees, belting out a horrific scream of doom, clawing at my forehead unable to bridle my brain. Maybe she survived what appeared to be a brutal attack upon my Father’s legacy, a fortress of strength and power left without protection.
The entrance was dark, mounds of fallen wall formed around me. I breathed in – heavily. My wife, my baby, those who cared for her, gone, murdered by savage beasts with a desire to take that which did not belong to them.
I dropped my belongings and ran. I ran with everything left in me. My sandals fell apart, leaving my bare feet to meet the rock covered path. I felt nothing but determination.
A barely audible cry called out from the rubble. My aching hands grabbed and tossed stone after stone from the pile. There in the midst of the decay, she released my tiny soldier from her grip and called my name for the last time.
Leesa Writes 