"Day Old Blood"

   The morning sun shone weakly through the patches of dull grey cloud hovering mourningfully over the bleak plains. The wrecked and fallen citadel rested languidly where it had once stood tall and proud, home to a great king and many noble families. Its broken walls lay scattered upon the grass surrounding it and crushed the scorched town within. Bodies of people and horses were spread out and torn apart by the havoc of the previous night's affairs. Day old blood stained what remained of the walls and rested in a vast pools on the ground and streets, dark and treacherous. A cold wind suddenly covered the land and the dark grass began to jerk violently. On the distant hills the autumn trees danced with the firm breeze, flickering like giant flames against the dim, patchy sky. On the highest hill, a lonely mound isolated from the rest, a hooded figure stood motionless, watching over the broken settlement menacingly. His long, dark, ragged poncho blew in the wind, mirroring the trees adjacent. The darkened face of the wandered seemed unphased. With one swift movement he mounted his horse and rode away into the plain.