14 June 2012
Just a random Drabble, inspired by war horse. :P
Rain thumped angrily into the deep, oozing mud, gathering in holes and making the sludge even worse. Disheartened soldiers stood in clumps, loading polished guns, smoking cigarettes and exchanging their possible last words with each other. A group of loyal steeds stud huddled against each other, trying to suck any warmth they could into their dithery bodies from each other. A young soldier by the name of Bertie stood stroking a grey mare, glancing pitifully at her wounds and her painfully thin body. "We'll get through it, Ebony, just like last time" he said, smiling merrily. Other soldiers looked on, wondering if the boy had finally lost the plot. "Who on earth would talk to an 'orse?" someone said. "A lunatic" a reply came back. Bertie ignored the remarks; he was used to them. Ebony nuzzled his palm as he looked deeply into her eyes. He could see sorrow and pity in those hazel pools. "Animals should never be involved in the conflict of man" he murmured. "Alright lads, times come, mount up and kill the enemy!" a gravely voice boomed like a siren. Suddenley, the camp turned into utter chaos as soldiers struggled to grab their weapons and mount up. "Let's do it, lass. Just like before" Bertie said, hoisting himself up into the burgundy saddle. He held his reins loosely, his hands trembling slightly. The cavalry began to form lines, and Bertie carefully maneuvered Ebony through the bustling crowd to the front row. "Remember men, through the camp, kill as many as possible, then into the forest!" the sergeant called from his huge, bay shire horse. Men cheered half heartedly. "CHARGE!" The horses lurched forward, tossing their noble heads up into the air and whinnying loudly as they bumped unto each other. They plummeted down a slippery, slope of mud into a dangerous abyss. Horses struggled in the mud, which was very much like sinking sand. Some thrashed about in fear as they sunk too deep in the mud, unable to get out. Bertie felt his horse shy. "Carry on, lass. Nearly there" he whispered loud enough to hear. Ebony, seemingly reassured, increased her pace. The camp came into sight. Angry, shocked cries were heard as the cavalry tore through the camp like a knife through butter, destroying anything in their path. Bertie sliced the arm of a German with his sword, his eyes on the forest. Ebony leapt over a fallen tent elegantly and broke into a headlong gallop. Bertie smiled, whooping whilst he lowered his sword and skewered an enemy soldier. The forest was the safe zone. Or so they thought. The walk of green was so inviting. Sheltered and dense, no enemy would find them. Hooves thudded louder against the ground and Ebony quietly grunted with each stride. Bertie was first into the forest, leaving the regiment flanking behind. Immediately, the smile was wiped off his cheery face. The enemy were here. With guns. It all happened so suddenly. A bullet zoomed through the air and pierced Berties stomach. Ebony felt him go limp in the saddle, and without the weight she suddenly felt alone and scared. She reared up into the air as the cavalry regiment encircled her to fight. Machine guns roared. Men cried in pain. Bertie fell from the saddle with a thud. Ebony turned to him, nuzzling his face worriedly. Bertie lifted a weak arm and stroked his horses face. "Good horse. Such a good horse." he choked out, smiling softly. "Run along now, go and help win the war." he said, his eyes glistening with tears. Ebony whinnied softly. The cavalry regiment had pushed forward. The place was deserted practically, with a few riderless horses cantering about, confused and lost. Ebony laid softly on the ground beside him, grief consuming her. Bertie offered her one last pet, and his eyes closed forever.
A War horse • Opuss № I