Love and Death

Fear consumes the young woman as she runs frantically through the woods, her plain brown pants and shirt billowing behind her. She is agile and moves quickly around trees and under low branches; however, she trips on an unseen root. The momentum causes her to fall to the ground with great force. Her hands and knees slam into the fallen leaves and sticks that cover the forest floor. Knowing she has little time, she ignores the pain and wounds, forcing herself to press on. Her hair has fallen from its braid and blood drips down from her left hand. 

(The young woman stood gallantly outside of a ballroom in an elegant gown of teal with copper embroidery. Despite her hair being left down, it looked regal. She was a guest in attendance and was patiently waiting for her escort. A young man dressed in princely garb calmly approached her and offered her his hand. She placed her hand in his and smiled warmly as they walked in together.)

The young man, her prince, stands before the forest's edge in his military uniform of black and gold, his back to the trees. The soldiers behind him stand firmly in their places, waiting for his call to attack. Opposite them, in the field, is the enemy dressed in gray, and the most vile of men: the man in the color of fire. He is the threat to the land hidden by the trees, the young woman's land. The prince lifts his sword from his side and rushes forward. His men follow suit while the enemy draws their swords and holds their ground. The young man's sword strikes the first man he meets, and each subsequent swing of his sword is precise, rhythmic, and effective. 

(The prince walked with the young woman through the crowded ballroom. As they took their place among those waiting to dance, all eyes were on them, but it was as though the two were in their own world. The musicians lifted their instruments and the music filled the room. The young lady and the prince let go of reality and let the music lead them. As they floated across the dance floor, they stared into each others' eyes.) 

The grass of the field is trampled underfoot and bloodied; the crimson color is in stark contrast to the lavender bushes in the distance. The prince's soldiers and those in gray become entangled and fight on. Every man struggles to climb over bodies and to keep their footing in the blood-soaked grass. The prince grunts and yells as his sword continues to meet that of an enemy. His body tires as man after man comes forward, but he is relentless in his pursuit of his foe - the man in the color of fire.

(The prince led his partner from the nearly empty ballroom. Even the musicians had given up their songs in favor of sleep. The two walked across the palace grounds towards the garden as the light of morning softly woke the world around them. Without a word, the two walked arm and arm as they meandered through the flowers and enjoyed simply being together. The faint scent of lavender drifted on the wind. The young woman guided the prince towards the lavender bushes as they walked.)

Though the young woman's body aches, she forces herself to continue running, the sounds of clanging metal and the screams of the dying become clearer. She unsheaths her dagger and emerges from the tree line, stopping to collect her bearings. The prince's back is to her as his sword finally meets that of the man in the color of fire. The two men push back against each other. The prince is shoved backwards and the enemy's sword just barely misses his chest, causing him to stagger. To the confusion of the young woman and the prince, the man in the color of fire lets go of his sword with one hand and lets it drop to his side as he holds perfectly still. He looks past the prince and stares at the woman. The prince turns around to face her. Their eyes meet. 

(The lavender bushes appeared pastel in the light of dawn. In front of the bushes, the young woman quit walking and held the prince back. There was a sudden uneasiness in the air as the woman let go of the prince's arm and turned to him. His smile faded. She looked down at the ground as she spoke, regretting the decision she had long since made.)

The young woman stares back at the prince, frozen in her regret. It is then that the man in the color of fire grabs the handle of his sword with both hands and thrusts it into the prince's back. She screams and lets go of her dagger at the sight of the sword protruding from the prince's stomach. The foe pulls the sword from the prince's back and a second later, the prince drops to his knees. His eyes, even in his agony, remain fixed on the young woman, and she, in her panic, is powerless to break eye contact. 

(The sun rose higher in the sky as the two walked reluctantly away from the garden, away from the lavender bushes. The young woman walked in front of him as he followed, watching her. The palace grew larger and more intimidating as they approached. The weight of the sleepless night and the day ahead showed in their disheveled appearances. As they approached the palace, she turned back to him, wavering in her determination.)

A whistling sound flies by the young woman's ear. She turns her head quickly to see her fellow fighters emerging from the forest and pulling back their bows once more. Her head spins back around to see an arrow embed itself into the chest of the man in the color of fire. His body sways momentarily before collapsing to the ground behind the prince, whose body has become weak. The prince's head droops forward as he struggles to see the woman. The archers draw their daggers and rush past the woman to end the battle once and for all.

(The servants bustled around the palace as the two lingered outside. Neither wished to leave the night before. Each desired to throw away their responsibilities and live only in the moment, but the young woman's aide approached them. She forced a smile before walking away from the prince, leaving her aide with the prince.) 

Her feet begin to move slowly towards the dying prince. His clothes are covered in blood. She drops down in front of him and desperately tries to think of what to do. His body totters and falls onto her; the warmth of his tears spread over her shoulder. She throws her arms around him and cries out. Her shrill screams fill the air as his body lays against her, lifeless in her arms. 

(The aide waited until the woman could no longer hear them before he spoke to the prince. 

"I beg of you, gather men and follow us to our land. She knows not that the enemy will outnumber our forces. I fear our land, and our lady will fall."

The aide left him to consider the conundrum before him. With one more wistful glance at the woman, his gaze resolved and he stepped forward towards his death.)