Battle Call

The mists that had enveloped the camp were clearing, early morning birds sang mournful cries to warn of the coming sun. Parting the skins over her door with her pale bare hand, she emerged from her tent. Her regal air set her apart as much has her attire did. Flaxen upbraided hair swayed in the soft breeze that pushed away the morning fog. The wavy locks intertwined with the golden knot trim on her forest colored dress, creating a golden mantel that glinted from the first rays of the morning sun. Each of her measured steps brought her closer to her destination. Determination glinted from her pale blue eyes, while her face was stoic and a beautiful calm. The armored men stood in cold, still respect as she passed by; warriors waiting for their general to address them. As she stopped and faced her white battle stallion, her attendants adorned her tiny waist with a golden belt, the gold arm plates were tightened with ease. She stood as a battle hardened commander, readying for the charge. Lifting herself onto the horse, she turned and raised her sword to the sky. The men who had waited with baited breath, let out battle cry in unison. Turning the steed towards battle, the men scrambled to their mounts to rally to the call. All that they left was the torn earth from the hooves of their ride.