Snippet #1813612

Imara walked the well-worn trail toward Wildsgate, leading her hose, Saffron by the reigns. She had left her father only a few nights previous and was pleased so far by the beautiful weather. She hummed a tune, something she remembered from her youth, and made the occasional stop to smell the wildflowers in bloom. Surely the day was hot, verging on too hot, but she was used to spending time traveling in such weather, and was only thankful that she was not battling rain or snow as she had on so many trips with her father. She took a sip of water from her water skin and smiled up at the sky in thanks as a cloud passed overhead.

Only... it wasn't a cloud. As three large bats descended from the sky toward a farmer and his wagon, Imara's happy mood was shattered. Gasping in fear, she ran toward the scene, instantly raising her voice to sing the battle song her father had taught her since she was young in hopes that it would inspire those who fought the ferocious beasts to fight a little harder, and to feel a little braver.

"If we must die, let it not be like hogs
Hunted and penned in an inglorious spot
While round us bark the mad and hungry dogs,
Making their lot at our accursed lot!
If we must die, O let us nobly die,
So that our precious blood may not be shed
In vain; then even the beasts that we defy
Shall be constrained to honor us though dead!
O kinsmen, we must meet the common foe!
Though far outnumbered, let us show our brave,
And for their thousand blows deal one death blow!
What though before us lies the open grave?
Like men we'll face the murderous, cowardly pack
Pressed to the wall dying, but fighting back!"

Still carrying on the tune, Imara notched a bolt into her crossbow and took aim on the beasts before her.