The commander stood before her, battered and bloody, emanating the sorrow of his lost comrades. He looked upon her angelic face, so small and frail. Her skin was dirty with soot and dust. Her hair was pale, blowing softly in the aftermath of battle. Her small frame reached towards his rough armor, complexity in her piercing eyes. She offered him a small token, a heart shaped locket. Her frail arm stretched out to him, the locket nestled in her palm. He hesitated at first, finally reaching out to accept her small token. A faint smile crossed her face as she began to collapse on the blood stained ground.
He caught her within his arms, tucking her closely against his armor.
"Let's take her home." He hid the painful sorrow that shook his voice. How could he allow such a small child to be caught up in this war? As his mind began to wander further, a small trembling voice whispered to the commander,
"You destroyed my home…"
A small tear fell from her eyes, only then did he know the devastating truth behind her gesture. The locket was not a token for him to prosper in battle but a plea to let her live. A small scrap of paper was tucked in the locket that read
"Save her."
He felt his knees falter upon reading the desperate message of a loving family that had to sacrifice themselves to let their youngest live on.
However, he didn't have time to respond or beg her for forgiveness. Over the hill, just beyond the destroyed village, the battle was raging on and creeping closer.
New troops had emerged from the opposing side ready for death, with the stench of blood on them; the odds were beginning to look grim to say the least. The Commander instructed his men to hide the child before the fighting would begin. They found a place, beautifully untouched by the rage of war.
A garden of blood red roses stretching out beyond the collapsed village. Different shades of velvet red painted delicately on each supple petal. The petals clinging desperately to one another, causing soft ripples and folds spiraling to its middle. Underneath, light green leaves can be seen, hidden, almost as if it was holding the weight of the petals' beauty on its own with utter contentment. Its stem thorny beneath it, sturdy and solid, however, fierce and daring. A single touch would result in a fiery pain. Yet it defends the petals with its very existence. Further down darker green leaves wave aimlessly in the cool breeze of spring seemingly unbothered by the raging war. Stretching as far as the stem will allow, reaching every bit of precious sun they can. Their rigid demeanor only complements the velvet like petals. The stem begins to vine more intensely, twisting itself endlessly in vapid thorny coils until it is impossible to see the roots. A shield of spikes weaving together for the ultimate defense. This would be her resting place, possibly even her grave if she was truly unlucky. The warriors laid her down softly. Her small frame couldn't be seen underneath the shield of thorns.
"Will this be enough?" said the younger warrior. He seemed sullen to be leaving such a young child behind and alone. The rest of the three warriors looked to the commander, he too had a sullen look on his face. One filled with worry and compassion for the girl but also bitterness for his own follies. However, he knew better than anyone that she couldn't follow them into this battle.
"It has to be for now, we will come back for her… if we can." the commander stroked her angelic face, allowing a tear to be shed for this child, and all the others that were caught in the middle of this damned war. He knew very well that it was unlikely they would be able to come back for her, that this battle would be their last.
As the battle thundered closer the warriors left, with determination in their hearts. It was time to end this, once and for all.
14 years later…
The young woman stood atop the hill that overlooked an old battle field. She had heard stories of the war, but she also had vague memories of it as well. Although people told her they were just bad dreams she had as a child, she couldn't shake the feeling that it was all too real. She was too young to remember the moments that took place, but she couldn't deny this field of battle and lost warriors called to her. It beckoned her forward with intensity. She walked down the hill to the battlefield in a trance-like state. The further she went in, the more she realized how much the thorny blood roses took over everything that dared settle here.
Silver peaked through the endless green thicket of sharp thorns and scattered blood roses. A dim shine, however, is still easily spotted, hiding under the climbing vines. With pure curiosity, she unleashed the vining thorns, unveiling the damaged armor of a warrior long forgotten. Its silver was blinded by the dirty blotches of old blood and smeared mud. This once great battle armor, cast away, hollow within itself. Nature had consumed any trace of the living being that may have resided within this bleak piece of history.
A hole within the plates revealed the death of its wearer. A spear or perhaps a cannon shell had penetrated its resistance easily and without warning. Where the piece lay now is unknown but its presence was still felt with every curved piece of shattered metal cascading from its breast. Here lies a fallen warrior. Why did it seem so familiar to her? Before she could answer her own question, another glimmer appeared. It caught the sun's rays just well enough to catch her attention, almost as if faded. In the hand of this fallen warrior was a heart shaped locket. The armored hand gripped the locket intensely even after death, as if it were the warriors only motive to stay alive. She reached for the locket, prying it out of the cold armored hand. She ran her thumb over it a few times, then with a click it opened.
Memories came flooding back, salty tears bitter and sweet rolled down her cheeks. Inside the heart shaped locket was a picture of a man, woman, and small child. This was her family, the family that was brutally taken away from her. This warrior, this shell of armor, belonged to the man that destroyed her village and took away everything she loved. However, this was also the man that saved her, hid her, and ultimately died protecting her. She remembered something else too, that last time she saw his face, he stood before her, shedding a tear of sorrow and longing. Her heart seemed to sink in her chest as she pulled out a small scrap of paper that had been crumpled into the locket. On the front of the paper it said- "Save her." She knew that was her fathers sturdy writing even if now it was faded into barely legible marks. However, that isn't what had her heart sinking deep into her chest. There was another message messily written on the back as if the writer was in a hurry, it read:
"I'm so sorry."