Post by Autumn's Nightmare on Nov 22, 2008 20:34:29 GMT -5
Many miles away a man of good stock was in battle; his iron sword swinging and attacking. The many cries of battle surrounded him. Bernt swung it up and landed it on a man. It sunk its razor sharp edge into the mans shoulder cutting it quick to the bone. He pulled it free and swung again, beheading the warrior. He plunged his sword into the stomach of another man but little did he see that behind him, a man was riding a horse. The soldier swung his axe down and it landed itself in the spine of Bernt. Bernt fell to his knees, his blue eyes slowly faded of its life; his body fell forward into the mixture of blood and mud. The leader was dead.
Months later…
A cool and crisp morning, in nothing but a shack a life was born. A mother held her first born in her arms, the little infant was silent. Her eyes were a delightful blue, and open. The mother held her close, and then spoke. “Minna. That is the name your father would have wanted. He was a brave man, Bernt was. He did not know that you were on your way here. You have his eyes.” She paused and let a yawn escape her mouth. She Picked up her baby and put her in a few blankets and walked out to the barn. She still had to work, even moments after birth. She set Minna down on a hay pile, and started to milk a cow.
At age 6 Minna had learned how to ride and break in a horse, she learned how to use a long bow, and how to fish. At age 12 she was considered a woman. Her hair was long and golden, her cheeks rosy with a German touch, eyes of her fathers and a complexion as fair as her mothers. She kneeled beside the bed of her mother and wept for the plague had taken her captive. Minna held her hand and kisses it with her pink lips. “Oh Momma, I will make you proud. I will.” Her mother looked at her daughter. “No matter what, love. Fight, for what you believe is right.” With that, her last breath was saying Minna’s name.
Minna stood up and grabbed her mother’s clothes. She put them on. A full length baby blue peasant gown and a brown leather corset over it. She grabbed a bag and stuffed it with day-old bread, some cheese, and some spare money. She also took a small sack of left over seeds. The sun was starting to set, and she was determined to leave. She hated working on the farm, she hated being paid less. She ran to the stable and took the fastest horse out. The courser horse, her lords most favored horse. She mounted him quickly and left.
In moments she was at the woods, on the path that lead to the city. She demounted her horse and led him along the dirt path. Many odd sounds flourished in the unseen woods. Yellow eyes peered out from behind the trunks; sticks were cracking from creatures walking; she was prey, the victim and so was her horse. She mounted him and kicked him in the sides. He sped forward, dust was billowing up from his heavy strides, and heavy breathing was creating a mist. By sunrise they were out and entering the city. So many new noises, and new scents. So many new faces. She drew her worn cloak close to her body. Her dress was dirty from dirt and mud, her leather boots were worn as well. Her hair was knotted in a few places and her eyes shown how tired she was. She needed armor, and a weapon. She needed to go to war to avenge her fathers name, and how her family was years before, royal.
Months later…
A cool and crisp morning, in nothing but a shack a life was born. A mother held her first born in her arms, the little infant was silent. Her eyes were a delightful blue, and open. The mother held her close, and then spoke. “Minna. That is the name your father would have wanted. He was a brave man, Bernt was. He did not know that you were on your way here. You have his eyes.” She paused and let a yawn escape her mouth. She Picked up her baby and put her in a few blankets and walked out to the barn. She still had to work, even moments after birth. She set Minna down on a hay pile, and started to milk a cow.
At age 6 Minna had learned how to ride and break in a horse, she learned how to use a long bow, and how to fish. At age 12 she was considered a woman. Her hair was long and golden, her cheeks rosy with a German touch, eyes of her fathers and a complexion as fair as her mothers. She kneeled beside the bed of her mother and wept for the plague had taken her captive. Minna held her hand and kisses it with her pink lips. “Oh Momma, I will make you proud. I will.” Her mother looked at her daughter. “No matter what, love. Fight, for what you believe is right.” With that, her last breath was saying Minna’s name.
Minna stood up and grabbed her mother’s clothes. She put them on. A full length baby blue peasant gown and a brown leather corset over it. She grabbed a bag and stuffed it with day-old bread, some cheese, and some spare money. She also took a small sack of left over seeds. The sun was starting to set, and she was determined to leave. She hated working on the farm, she hated being paid less. She ran to the stable and took the fastest horse out. The courser horse, her lords most favored horse. She mounted him quickly and left.
In moments she was at the woods, on the path that lead to the city. She demounted her horse and led him along the dirt path. Many odd sounds flourished in the unseen woods. Yellow eyes peered out from behind the trunks; sticks were cracking from creatures walking; she was prey, the victim and so was her horse. She mounted him and kicked him in the sides. He sped forward, dust was billowing up from his heavy strides, and heavy breathing was creating a mist. By sunrise they were out and entering the city. So many new noises, and new scents. So many new faces. She drew her worn cloak close to her body. Her dress was dirty from dirt and mud, her leather boots were worn as well. Her hair was knotted in a few places and her eyes shown how tired she was. She needed armor, and a weapon. She needed to go to war to avenge her fathers name, and how her family was years before, royal.