Winters Bite
As I lay in a gully exempt from the Ice that plagued the fields above, all was still. The sky was a blue hidden by white and a place without sounds, without pain. My horse below had fallen into a spears hoe grip. As reality bit at my leg, trapped under I was. I made my move to release the stirrup eager to not upset the silence of the gully. When I saw my arm, it was peppered with teeth on the brown burnt leather. It must have been from the charge I remembered. I placed my arms on a near by rock and pulled with all I had not being bale to stop myself from groaning from an unknown wound. My horse was pulled away from, not I it. The volatile motion could only mean we had lost, I turned burying my lance into a rock near me with both hands, facing what had thrown my horse strides away.
I found this Image to be a good representation of the before:
(https://www.google.co.za/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=0CAYQjB1qFQoTCP2067W8y8gCFcm3FAod1rMJsg&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.ancient-origins.net%2Fnews-history-archaeology%2Fdoes-newly-discovered-tomb-hungary-belong-attila-hun-001488&psig=AFQjCNEL8LIowpUCtCCvUOMfl3B9BG2aNw&ust=1445238849120552)
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