Heather awoke, blood smothering her back. Not just the small trickles of her own blood but the uncleaned puddles of her fallen knights and some, if not all of her royal staff. She sat up, she could feel the wetness along with the stickiness covering her hand woven cloak with great uncomfort. Heather's hand scanned over her surface, now reaching forward onto the left temple on her already hazy vision and bruised spot that had been in a way, "spared and lightly tapped." The pain hasn't subsided, even after a few hours of being knocked out.
Heather started to cry. The memories of what happened during those happy days with her sister now ended with her maybe never being able to see her again. Heather knew she had to do something. Even if a part of her didn't actually want to. She was the last of her family. She remembered how powerless she was against that stone knight, and her hope suddenly wained. Maybe she shouldn't try. Maybe she would die trying. Maybe she'd do better to find someone to help her travel across the plains to find a comrade who would accompany her on her path to finding her sister once again. She stood to her feet, and the headache felt worse than one of her migraines after she had drank too much from the local tavern reserves. She didn't know if she could survive another beating from that monstrous thing.
Picking up her still bloodied sword, grasping it tightly in both hands, she held it diagonally, looking through its defiled shine to see her messy, unkept reflection. She had no choice. The blond hair that now flared with an intense red gave her inspiration to do what needed to be done.
She would save her sister.
Even if it meant death.
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A Queens Sorrow
Teen FictionA Tale Of A Princess With A Dream To Be More Than Just Royalty
