There is always work for loggers in war. Stakes must be raised to pierce the flanks of horses; ships must be crafted to raid coastlines; siege engines must be fashioned to penetrate high walls.
But rarely was there demand for so much work as quickly as the Prince asked for. The Serpent Crest raiders had raised a fortress in the center of a low valley, rings of hills and cliffs forming a natural fortification. From there, they struck like stinging wasps at the scattered villages.
The Prince wanted them gone.
“Madness,” one logger said to another as they hewed the forest until the earth was bare.
“Madness,” the lords murmured inside the walls of his city.
The Prince’s will was done, his logs stretching across the river.
“Madness,” the Serpent Crest commander whispered as the flood descended upon the valley, the redirected river sweeping away everything in its path.
Word Count: 148
This is for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. Thanks to Priceless Joy for running the challenge and Loretta Notto for providing the prompt photo!