The dust was heavy in her nose, lung full of it as she coughs violently into the metal of her armor which was now heavy after hours of fighting. She drops the heavy great sword and it crashes to the ground with a thump. Her knees soon follow, settling on the ground along with the dust. When she looks around she is met with dread, the result of war. Men and women alike all had fallen and only few survived. The small village outside of the walls of the kingdom was destroyed, houses burned, memories along with it.

When her breath finally evens out she rises once again, surveying the area, it was quiet. What she had learned was after a battle there was no crying or screaming as many would say, it was only deafening silence. People wandering, lost and dazed. Just as she was, there were others doing the same, villagers and soldiers alike from both sides. It’s as if there was no battle moments ago, bodies scattered, no will to continue fighting.

Then she hears it, the first sound after minutes of silence, the piercing cry. It was a small baby, she could tell just from the sound. The house was half burnt down, she walks to it quickly and begins to move the rubble. The sound gets louder as she finds the source, a woman’s body lays on top of sound. She’s quick to check her but finds no sign of life, moving her aside she lays her next to the child who is wailing. It’s small, she is small, wrapped in a pink blanket tightly. The soldier removes her armor slowly, each piece clanks as it hits the floor. Slowly she picks up the baby and begins to rock her, shushing her lowly. Then she steps out of the rubble and away from the battlefield. The baby begins to coo after a bit and she feel the hot tears finally run down her own face, when had she cried last? She could not tell if her tears were of grief or relief but the weight slowly lifts as the battlefield becomes a speck in her vision.