There was something oddly serene about the way the air hung still above the sandy fields in front of her. The calm before the storm. The last shred of serenity before the battle. The last sliver of peace her soldiers would get before she led them to their potential deaths.
And yet, as she breathed in deeply through her nose, she could almost smell a different potential in the air, as well. The potential of a victory. The potential of peace after this last violation of it.
And that, she felt, was a potential worth fighting for. Even worth dying for.
YOU ARE READING
Tiny Stories
Short StoryA collection of 100 word stories, based on two prompt list challenges. The first 100 stories will be based on general themes, the last 100 will be based on a list of 100 emotions. *COMPLETED*
