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| - Night is still. Not a quiet, easy still, but an anxious one. No one sleeps. We are all tense in preparation. We can hear the soldiers. They're coming. All we can do is wait, and fight. We are thirty against three hundred. Our only hope is hope itself. All you have to do is examine the facts and you see we lose. They have three hundred (at least) trained soldiers. Proper, first-class weapons. Expensive armor. Hunger. Military efficiency. We have thirty kids, a carpet of wood, a pile of logs, and a valley. They win. That's that. It's not fair, it's not justice, but it's life.
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| abstract
| - Night is still. Not a quiet, easy still, but an anxious one. No one sleeps. We are all tense in preparation. We can hear the soldiers. They're coming. All we can do is wait, and fight. We are thirty against three hundred. Our only hope is hope itself. All you have to do is examine the facts and you see we lose. They have three hundred (at least) trained soldiers. Proper, first-class weapons. Expensive armor. Hunger. Military efficiency. We have thirty kids, a carpet of wood, a pile of logs, and a valley. They win. That's that. It's not fair, it's not justice, but it's life. In fairness, we've done the best we possibly could, given our circumstances. As the knights ride in to steal our food, they have only one path to ride on, unless they fancy climbing up the mountains. This path, five meters wide and half a mile long, is our greatest advantage. We've put down a carpet of logs, completely covering the path, and when the time is right, we'll burn it. The task of burning goes to us, and to Donal and Damien. Donal and Damien are twins, and at fourteen years old, they can't fight. So they stay at the beginning of the path, where the soldiers will form a line and advance. Once enough have fallen into our trap, they'll light some logs they have and drop them down. When we see the flame, we set our own end alight, and anyone in the middle ends up a crispy black pie. Their are about thirty of us fighters, and another fifteen or so fourteen and fifteen year olds, who'll be giving us assistance in the second part of our plan. At the end of the path, where it opens up to the valley that is Graiguenamanagh, we have constructed a barricade to stop them in their tracks. From our height, we'll pick them off with arrows and heavy stones. They'll get around the barricade eventually, and so everyone runs back to the village. Some of the soldiers will fall into our dozen or so pits. Even if we're lucky (which we generally aren't) we'll still have to deal with, at least another hundred soldiers. As the kids run past the gate, it will close, leaving us to fight. The kids will climb up ladders and sit on ledges, where they can fire some arrows. It will help, but not much. They're marching down our path. My heart hammers inside my chest, and my eyes swell with fear as I see the light of their torcher reflecting off their weapons and armor. Evan in this shadowy light, they look so strong, so solid. Do we even have a chance against such beasts? It doesn't matter now. The soldiers are coming. The battle is beginning. Saradomin save us all. This Story Will be Continued Soon In "First Blood".
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