~Untitled~ [Part 1]

Cries of terror screeched through the reddened sky, I gazed onwards, scraps of flint attacking my searching, fierce eyes.
“Bronwyn!” I bellowed for Bronwyn, my beloved horse. But the violent gale summoned my shaking voice away. Blood, everywhere. On my hands, my clothes and my weapons. People (what was left of people) dragged themselves around, sobbing and screaming in unbelievable pain. Something, or someone, grabbed at my ankle pleading for aid. ‘It’ was looking up at me, asking for help. ‘It’ had only half a face. I shook my head in pure horror and continued to run, my shield slung over one shoulder, digging into my back. A sudden burst of guilt washed over me as the ‘its’ helpless and frightened cries reached out to me. Don’t look back I thought, I’ve got to find Bronwyn, just don’t look back. I looked back. I turned, I went back to the injured ‘it’.
‘It’ happened to be a ‘he’ but he was so badly burned and wounded it was almost impossible to tell. He was bleeding, a lot. I retrieved some sheepskins and twine from my shoulder bag to fasten to his damaged arm. It was also broken There was not much I was able to do for his face just yet. I picked what was left of a willow lance and used it to support his break. I couldn’t carry him myself, I needed Bronwyn.
“Bronwyn!” I called desperately. There were so many horses, whinnying and galloping in frenzy, some were dead, like their owners. Bodies, some dead some barely alive, sprawled everywhere along the battlefield. The castle was on fire in the distance and bits of ash and flint stung my eyes. Terrified soldiers stumbled and ran, not sure of which direction to lead. I lowered my head in despair, we were unprepared, we had not been ready. Now king Arthur was dead, we had lost.
At that moment, Bronwyn decided to appear. She leaped over mountains and heaps of dead bodies and broken weapons and stopped right at my side.
“Good girl, you are going to have to help me carry this man here now. Hold still.” Bronwyn neighed in conformity and I heaved the bloody man over my shoulder and onto her broad back. Using more twine I tied him securely onto the saddle. He wasn’t saying much at all, just the odd moans and groans parting through his dry, swollen lips. I was afraid he wouldn’t make it.
“You hold on there.” I whispered. I swung myself onto Bronwyn with the man behind me. His legs dangling uncomfortably. We began making our way through the torturous scene before us and I winced at the pain I saw. I was planning on heading to the great forest a good mile or so from where we were. There would be a river there where we could tidy ourselves up.
I noticed a deep scratch on the side of Bronwyns neck, probably from a blunt sword. We galloped towards the green sweep of forest in the distance, the sky was grey from the ashes and the air was poisoned. I could feel my throat drying up and my head going dizzy. Dehydration is always a problem in battle. I did have a water flask but it had been pierced by a spear and the water leaked out. I continued to talk to the injured man. I was afraid he may be dead...1


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