Falling clouds On the top of a hill she stood overlooking her village that she had protected for all these years. No one knew of her existence and yet they needed her to protect them, their livestock, their children and crops. But she didn't mind not being noticed... Until one day she was. In the beginning this girl was just like any other village girl but smarter than the rest. She was the only daughter of a poor family, her father was a farmer but he also he helped make the ale and other alcoholic beverages. The mother was but a housewife she would stay at home with the daughter, she would cook,clean and tend the crops and the daughter would help, then once finished they would tend to the livestock. The girl died protecting her village and even in death she still does.... One day the girl sat on the to of a hill and began drawing, she would draw flowers and trees, birds in the sky, horses in the field or eating apples... She really did like to draw maybe that's an understatement... She LOVED to draw any spare time she could get she would draw, sketch or paint. Her most favourite thing to draw would be the sky. She felt a drifting sensation, floating even, when painting the sky with birds or clouds in them she loved it but that sensation came crashing when she first laid eyes of her village the one she loved,...it was up in flames. The girl saw raiders attacking her village so she ran as fast as she could, she was good with a sword her uncle had taught her how to protect herself from advancing enemies and where to puncture to kill them with one hit. She made it to her house and rushed through the door and to her bed which was a blanket made of sheep skin and straw. Under the bed was her sword she ran outside, it was hectic, people running and screaming, houses and markets being set alight. She saw someone run towards her with a sword in hand she readied herself. The attacker made the first move but she dealt the fatal blow, her sword pierced his stomach and moments later he fell with a thud. She picked up his sword so she was better equipped and able to protect herself. She had fought for hours bruised and bloody till the end, she had managed to take down 17 men and 24 women. She was laid to rest by some of the villagers who had survived. She was laid to rest on that same hill that one she would pour her emotions into just through expression, through her art, her love.