Trees green heavy with leaf circle the valley, walls of wood. The grass tall uncut swaying in a motion to mesmerize the eyes , droplets of red upon random blades peppered throughout the valley floor. A small river slashes through the tranquility clear cool blue washing over what lies beneath. The sun has now lowered in the skies washing crimson across it's palette. The song birds are quitening down the forest dwellers returning to their homes eyes watching ears listening movements cautious.
On the hill where the trees have cracked, a small opening in the wall of wood stands a lone figure . Head bent down , shoulders slumped , cloth upon it hangs in loose shape, in one hand a weapon a sword it's metal dulled with the marks of its work. The other hand is outstretched, holding a leather fashioned collar from which dangles a solitary small emerald.
Slowly the figure reveals itself as it's head rises up. The face of a man. The face is contorted, scarred from many battles his beard unkept his eyes buried deep within telling his life's stories without a spoken word. The man a warrior stood in silence, patient.
In the valley below a low sound of screams could be heard , ungoldy , errie wrought with pain devoid of life . More droplets of red embellished its green grass . The red droplets were warm and had a strong smell ,the smell of death.
A figure moved near the river. Quickly . Quietly. The clang of metal cut the valley like thunderclaps , came and went in the blink of an eye. The figure melted into the tall uncut grass ,silent . The forest dwellers halting in their tracks, ears pricked up, eyes dancing in every direction noses twitching. Their homeward pace quickened their demeanour more cautious. The walls of trees stood in silence no movement no wind .
Once more the figure by the river moved rising up to the evening shadows to melt into them as one. The smell of fear drifted through the valley the screams more low more sad, their hoplesness rippling through the valley washing into the forest and disappearing in the silence.
Upon the hill the warrior looked on no emotions in his eyes no expression on his grizzled dirt and blood splattered face. Slowly he raised his arm lifting the empty leather collar high up into fading day. The emerald burst a bright green light and the last ray of the days sun caught it in its death grasp and was gone.
The valley below sunk into the night , trees stood as majestic dark shadows the forest dwellers now safely returned to their homes embracing the warmth and security gently closed their eyes. The river hummed a soft sound it's water running of away into the valley , the tall grass now smelling sweet gently rested. Night was here. Day was gone and the lone warrior upon the hill had turned and was slowly walking away into the darkness, the leather crafted emerald adorned collar was gone from his hand and the warrior was no longer alone as he walked