The bard looked at his people bustling around the campsite and then glanced back towards the shrine. It was a small gesture, not like the great shrines they made in their villages, but it would have to do. They had been lucky to find this abandoned place. Residents must have scarpered many years before when the English had started commanding lands. The Welsh were ready to fight, ready to reclaim what the English had taken from them. He hoped the shrine would bring them the luck they needed.
The bards gathered on the hillside, below they could see the Welsh and English armies preparing for battle. The bards raised their arms and began to chant. The clouds moved across the sky and storms began to gather above the English army, the bard look at his men, nodded once then continued to chant louder and louder. Tonight they would be victorious.
Originally written in Response to Sue Vincent’s #Writephoto challenge – Pale. Check it out for a wide variety of interesting writing.