Saturday, May 14, 2016

100 Words a Day 851

Most of the old guards resented the assignment, a small fort on a strategically unremarkable hill. Far from the front lines. Garu liked it though. He limped from an old wound and the faces of the men he had slain were always over his shoulder.

War was in the north, and the cold made his joints hurt. It was always warm at the little fort, in the south, and the sun on his face made him smile. When he wasn’t patrolling he liked to lay under a large tree and smell the fragrance of the flowers on the warm wind.

No comments:

Post a Comment