A wave of confusion washed across Hertha’s face as she
slowly placed her hand around the sword's uniquely shaped hilt. The sword was
longer than her arm with oddly shaped letters running down the fuller. With
shaking arms, Hertha tried to hold the sword upwards in the air, but the blade
was too heavy to maintain.
Ares took hold of the
sword, and smiled. "Be patient, we are not finished yet.” Ares grabbed
Hertha by the face and looked into her eyes. Before her head hit the ground, he
was off once again.
The snow started falling
once again, covering both Hertha and the sword. The coldness prompted Hertha to
open her eyes once again. “Thor, give me strength,” demanded Hertha. She
grabbed the sword and thrust it into the cold frozen ground. “Nei, I can do
this.” She pulled herself up by pressing her weight on top of the hilt. After
she made it to her feet she looked around. Her eyes were now focused. She no
longer had problems with seeing objects far away from her. She grabbed the
sword and flung it in the air. “By the Gods, I am great.”
Erica reached for the
wooden slab of the door as Hertha was nearing the entrance. “Are you mad, gurl?
I was about to send the men for you. If you don’t want to be treated like a barn,
you need to act your age.”
“I’m going to fight in
the next battle,” insisted Hertha as she pulled her wet clothes off and placed
them in a corner.
“Not this again—we have
talked about this. You are not fighting. You are not a warrior. You need to gain
the attention of one of the Lord’s sons. He has plenty and you can gain honor.”
Hertha looked at Erica
sternly. “ The Lord’s sons are sackless.”
I am sure I will go back and I am sure I will change things. I am not sure how it sounds.
No comments:
Post a Comment