It was a deadly silence that swept over me. The kind where you have to look around to reassure yourself you’re not alone, and I wasn’t alone. Thousands of men, in their clanking armor, stood around me with tension warped around there every movement.

The vast of our army stretched across the field in an attempt to intimidate our expectant enemies. My right hand fit in my sword, by my side, where the cushion was worn and torn from the use of many years. Not particularly from the use of myself, but from others.

A chilling wind blew in a gust across the dreary field in fair well kisses, to all the men. Dark clouds loomed overhead, with the threat of rain. The somber weather fit the somber day all too well.

My attention was brought back to the field ahead of me when the sound of a foreign horn blew with rage. Then that’s where I saw the site of thousand enemy men marching in bulky armory wielding deadly weapons in there trained hands. Only a couple more yards over the hill to go before they were in shooting range. The steady rhythmic beat of their march drilled into my head as I flinched with every beat. I wasn’t ready, yet here they were, marching to kill.

A loud demanding voice broke our silence, “SET BOWS!” It bellowed as we followed obediently. My arms shook as my body flooded with adrenalin and anticipation. We stood, arms set to shoot, waiting for the enemy to come closer. When they were finally in range, the voice boomed out again, “RELEASE!” My arm let go as my unsteady arrow shot out in front joining the hundreds of others. The enemy shrilled in agony and rage as they fiercely began to charge.

My instincts told me to run away, but before I could take any action my body was pushed ahead into a full speed sprint and into the deadly battle. I let out one last cry.