The Gilacomgain: A Short Story

We stood here, in perfect formation waiting for their arrival. As we squinted our eyes to see the tiny figures that charged toward us. They roared like lions as they approach the battlefield with their arms stretched out, hands clutched tightly on their weapons, ready to attack. I was a soldier of the clan of Macbeth, along with my other soldier for this clan. Charging towards our master’s enemy’s soldiers to fight in a battle which we didn’t know the cause to. Yet being loyal to our must fight.
My heart started drumming against my chest, hand sweating from clutching my sword as the Gillacomgain, our enemy, draw near. A drop of cold sweat trickled down the back of my neck, I shoot a glance at my fellow soldiers. Thinking if there was a chance that we could make it out of this battle alive. As the sounds of hooves thrashing against the and men roaring grew louder, I knew it was time. As our clan leader cried out, we charged against our enemy.
Locking my

All around me, I see the terror filled faces of my fellow soldiers as they get brutally slaughtered. They, the Gillacomgain’s, had brought almost double the number of men that we had and therefore we were highly outnumbered. While the realization sank in, I was in complete confusion, as I didn’t know what to do. Should I stay and sacrifice my life for this clan or flee. Having less than a second to make my decision, I chose to flee. I ran as fast I could, I kept glancing back continuously to check if anyone was coming after me. My heart thundering against my chest, sweat dripping all over my face from my hair. I didn’t know which direction to go, all I knew that I had to run as far away from the battlefield as possible. I could still hear the sounds of the battlefield, reminding me that I needed to keep running if I wanted to