by Matthew Brewes on Sunday, October 10, 2010 at 11:51am

I am standing in a field with my brothers, shoulder to shoulder.  The mists of morning mingle with our smoking breath, the chill air adding and edge to the tension mounting in men and horses.  The hilt of sword and haft of axe feel familiar and comfortable in my calloused hands.  The scent of sweat, steel and leather fill my nostrils mingled  with the sharp animal stink of fear and soon to be filled with the bright copper of blood and it is this anticipation that puts a fire in my veins, in the veins of us all.  The day will end red and smoking on the tip of a spear.  The horns are sounding, echoed in the brazen shout of a hundreds strong chorus of rough voices as we leap forward in the long charge.  There is a space where there is only the movement, the rush of air and then the sound of men, animals and blades meeting in thunder and madness.  Some will survive this day, others will find their place in the halls of our fathers but no matter what may come in this hour we were alive and fierce and mighty.

via Mighty.


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