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Morning After
A Thursday Prompt story
© 2024 by Walter Reimer
Prompt: loss
The next morning, the general rode out with his staff to survey the battlefield. The wolf, in his gold-brocaded white uniform, reined in his mount at the top of a hill where a battery of artillery and two brigades of infantry had made their stand, and stood up in the stirrups to get a better look.
The field was littered with corpses as far as his unaided eyes could see. Heaps of soldiers, smashed cannon, and sundered cavalry mounts. Lupine ears flicked to catch the wails and moans of the wounded and dying, and as the sun rose higher in the sky the general knew he’d have to plug his nose to block the stench of death from the corpses strewn like chaff across the expanse of rolling hills and once-green meadows.
Behind him, his staff waited nervously, and their ears perked as the general asked, “How many?”
They knew what he asked. One canine colonel replied, “We started the battle with fifty-one thousand, Sir.”
“Forty-three reported fit for duty this morning,” a tabby feline wearing a brigadier’s uniform and his wounded arm in a sling added.
Another colonel piped up, “A dispatch rider came from the capital, Sir. His Majesty said, “’Keep up the good work.’”
The wolf nodded curtly. “And the enemy?”
“Scouts report that what’s left of them are headed west, back to their own borders,” reported a cavalry commander who’d had to be strapped to his saddle to compensate for his missing legs. He looked about to faint and was supposed to be in his tent recovering, but he’d insisted on coming out with the general.
The wolf settled back into his saddle. “Their strength?”
“Scouts report scattered bands, Sir. They didn’t even shoot at our riders,” the cavalry commander said. “They’ll be safe on their side of the border come sundown.”
The general nodded and turned to face his subordinates. “I shall report to His Majesty that we keep the field, but we do not have enough remaining troops to take the fight to the enemy. I hope that this battle will convince our enemy to finally take back what he said about our King’s mother.”
His staff nodded as bearer parties, chaplains and camp followers began the grim work of collecting the dead and aiding the surviving wounded.
“Right,” the general finally said, “who’s for breakfast? I fancy some chicken and waffles.”
A Thursday Prompt story
© 2024 by Walter Reimer
Prompt: loss
The next morning, the general rode out with his staff to survey the battlefield. The wolf, in his gold-brocaded white uniform, reined in his mount at the top of a hill where a battery of artillery and two brigades of infantry had made their stand, and stood up in the stirrups to get a better look.
The field was littered with corpses as far as his unaided eyes could see. Heaps of soldiers, smashed cannon, and sundered cavalry mounts. Lupine ears flicked to catch the wails and moans of the wounded and dying, and as the sun rose higher in the sky the general knew he’d have to plug his nose to block the stench of death from the corpses strewn like chaff across the expanse of rolling hills and once-green meadows.
Behind him, his staff waited nervously, and their ears perked as the general asked, “How many?”
They knew what he asked. One canine colonel replied, “We started the battle with fifty-one thousand, Sir.”
“Forty-three reported fit for duty this morning,” a tabby feline wearing a brigadier’s uniform and his wounded arm in a sling added.
Another colonel piped up, “A dispatch rider came from the capital, Sir. His Majesty said, “’Keep up the good work.’”
The wolf nodded curtly. “And the enemy?”
“Scouts report that what’s left of them are headed west, back to their own borders,” reported a cavalry commander who’d had to be strapped to his saddle to compensate for his missing legs. He looked about to faint and was supposed to be in his tent recovering, but he’d insisted on coming out with the general.
The wolf settled back into his saddle. “Their strength?”
“Scouts report scattered bands, Sir. They didn’t even shoot at our riders,” the cavalry commander said. “They’ll be safe on their side of the border come sundown.”
The general nodded and turned to face his subordinates. “I shall report to His Majesty that we keep the field, but we do not have enough remaining troops to take the fight to the enemy. I hope that this battle will convince our enemy to finally take back what he said about our King’s mother.”
His staff nodded as bearer parties, chaplains and camp followers began the grim work of collecting the dead and aiding the surviving wounded.
“Right,” the general finally said, “who’s for breakfast? I fancy some chicken and waffles.”
Category Story / General Furry Art
Species Wolf
Size 120 x 92px
File Size 33.4 kB
Listed in Folders
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