A hundred days the armies encircled the hill of Arutbree. It was crowned by a fortress of sloping earth and rising stone over which soared the flag of the rebel king – the Golden Bear. Through tunnels and hidden gates, supplies crept, keeping the king fat and his army strong.
So the Queen had sent her greatest warrior.
“You’re not what we expected, ” the captain of the army said.
The Fox Knight had no horse, no shield, no gleaming mail. She wore cloth and leather. Her face was streaked with grey-green paint. Amidst grey and brown shone the cascading crimson of her hair and the white-streaked fox tail tied to her cloak.
And instead of a sword, she had only a hunter’s knife.
“Tomorrow,” the Fox Knight said, “Arutbree shall be yours.”
She vanished into the mists and shadows of the nights.
As golden rays sped across the slope, a horn sounded. The gates were open, the guard in disarray.
Charging up the hill, the army took the fortress in a torrent of death.
When they burst into the great hall, they found the Rebel King upon his throne, his eyes wide, a hunter’s knife in his heart.
Word Count: 197
This is for Sunday Photo Fiction. Thanks to A Mixed Bag for the prompt photo!