The battlefield was so loud, but the battle was lulled for now, its belly sated with the blood of the fallen. The knight sat propped against a tree, his head on his knees, his face so deeply tired that to look on it you would cry. He did not want to get up. Sunrise to sunset and back again, his company had fought. Sunrise, sunset. Sunrise, sunset. It was sunset now and he could feel the rays of the sun slowly leaving his back as it sank beyond the horizon, leaving him alone. He should probably get up, he told himself, and pick up his sword, and keep going the next morning like he was supposed to. Unlike people in the stories, he hadn't even seen anyone he knew personally die yet, so he really had no excuse, but he was still so bone-achingly weary. Maybe no one he knew personally had perished, but complete and total strangers had. There was the body of a man less than three metres away from him, shot through the heart with a golden arrow made of yew wood. And just the death in general made him want to beat his fists on the ground like a child and give up. He felt guilty about it, because others had it so much worse than he did and yet he was taking it just as badly as they were. He was sobbing now, great heaving sobs that wracked his body as he rocked back and forth, wondering how he was going to fight again. He wanted to give up. "Get up." a small voice said, but he ignored it. It came again, even quieter and more patient this time, with a hint of something in its tone. And that something was love. "Get up. The war's not over yet." Night had fallen now. The sky was on fire with stars above him and he felt the aching heaviness inside him weigh him down, but slowly he staggered to his feet. "The war's not over yet," the voice whispered, "but dawn is coming."
CHANELLE this was always for you I'll make a thumbnail for this at some point in my life oh well for now have a scratch cat
