Chapter 3

     

Arn groaned. Every muscle of his body ached. His head throbbed and pounded. It had been a hard day. The mile run had been treacherous. It was only the beginning, though. After the run, General Arto had said they weren't fast enough, and then made them do push-ups for what had seemed like hours to Arn. These made his chest, arms and back feel ready to fly to peices. Ugh. It made Arn ache even more to think about it, so he tried to get some sleep. Minutes passed. He was exhausted, and really needed sleep, so he clenched his eyes shut tight, but it didn't help a bit. Hunger pangs shot through his stomach, and he suddenly realised the problem. He hadn't eaten since he left his home in the wee hours of dawn. Arn felt in the pitch black for his pack. It was just above his head, so he pulled it onto his chest, searching the contents for something edible. His fingertips brushed a cloth bundle that smelled of biscuits. Greedily he pulled it out, ripping open the bundle, for he was famished. Pinned to the cloth was a peice of paper, obviously a note. Quickly, Arn pulled some grass from the ground beneath him, and he reached for his flints in his pocket. Striking the flints together, he lit the grass, which gave just enough light to read the note. It read;

Arn,
By the time you read this, you will be far away from me. I love you so much...... don't get yourself killed or the like. Be alert and cautious, and return to me as fast as you can.

Your Medilia

***

The next morning, Arn felt that something suspenseful was going to happen that day. But he simply shrugged it off. He met up with Reuben, who greeted him cheerfully;

"Morning, Arn! I hope you slept well."

"Quite well, Reuben. You"

"The same. Say, I'm hungry. Let's go get some breakfast." The saunered over to the food tent, where General Arto was spooning something fragrant out of an iron kettle into clay bowls for his men. Arn and Reuben took two bowls from a sack, and stood in line for their turn. Arn sniffed. It was a soup of all sorts of spices. He sniffed deeper. He could sense parsley, onion, and something unidentifyable. Saliva filled his mouth, and he could hardly stand still. Finally, he was next in line. Arto scowled at him, and slopped a portion in his direction, near missing the bowl. Arn turned to go sit in the grass, and saw his brother get the same treatment. Reuben sat down, muttering something about the general being a jerk, but soon he began loudly supping at his bowl. Arn, at this cue, began the same. Only mere minutes passed before General Gordon stood and yelled;

"Alright! A swim in the river immediately!! Let's mooooo-" But he was interupted by a scout racing toward camp as fast as possible.

"What is it, son?"

"Gerudo....3 miles north........advancing.." the man gasped.

"You heard him, men. Get any battle equpment you have, and meet me here in 2 minutes!" Arn dashed off to gather his things, flying from tent back to General Gordon. Other soliders did the same, bringing bows, swords, and spears in tow.

"Fooooorrrrwwwwwaaarrrddd march!" The men set off towards a battle that would never be forgotten.

***

They had raced about a mile north, when an animal howl floated over the hill. The men drew their swords. A swarm of red uniformed women cascaded down the hill. The battle commenced. General Arto bellowed;

"Advance, men!!!" The men let ou a scream, and dashed toward the Gerudos. A young young, brandishing two machetes, slashed at Arn's throat, missing by a fourth of an inch. Arn slashed wildly, his efforts being blocked by the Gerudo's swords. Arn continued to swing. Finally, a look of horrible pain came over the Gerudo's face. She clutched her stomach, where a reddish-purple liquid tricked down. Arn raised his sword again, and delivered the final blow to her throat. The Gerudo died. Arn just shrugged it off, and ran to another. This woman slashed quicky, knocking him to the ground. She stood over him, preparing to cut him to peices, but his reflexes made him move in the nick of time. The sword wizzed past his ear. Arn rose behind her, and cleanly sliced her head off. This was war, eh? He loved it.

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