Herbert's Side Story 2
They carried me with reckless abandon, like I was a piece of abandoned furniture.
There was no reverence. There was no awe. There was certainly none of the ceremony and respect that a chosen hero sent down by divine will deserved.
No. They grabbed me like some oversized, poisonous weed clogging up their battlefield that they wanted to get rid of as soon as possible.
The soldiers held me uncomfortably by my stalk and hoisted me up as if I were a sack of potatoes. One had the audacity to grunt, "Smells like mossy laundry." The other laughed.
I did not. Well, I couldn't, but that's beside the point.
Behind us, the battlefield faded out of view. The smoking carcasses of void beasts melting into the ground, their stench giving way to something far more offensive. Human food.
I caught whiffs of burned plants, overcooked grains, and charred meats. They were cooking using wood. The very bones of trees. Disrespectful, selfish savages.
