As a watery dawn sun began to fill the heavens, church bells peeled triumphantly from both east and west. Betwixt the celebrating factions the Cassitara rippled and bubbled innocently on her way; nearby treetops once more echoing with the sound of bird song.
On the shallow river’s mud strewn banks, confused, panicked footprints abound; empty, spent cartridges and discarded rifles glistened with drops of blood speckled dew. In mid-stream a watchful lone hawk pecked lustily at the weeping, shattered eye socket of a young soldier.
Next year they would all be back. Once more to fight for the right to control the Crossing.
These words form my entry into this week’s Friday Fictioneers photo prompt challenge.