Isra stood at the front of the line, her sword drenched in blood, with a wide smile on her face. She breathed heavily, dodging an attack aimed at her chest. Leaning to the right, she stabbed out with her own sword, piercing the skull of the man. She couldn't count how many she had killed by this point. Bodies lay all over as the world was drowned in the sounds of metal clashing and men yelling.
Blood coated her armour as she finally had enough and fell back, being replaced. She didn't want to fall back, but she had to rest. Looking over to where Alfred was, she saw Snowid charging the line like a truck, pushing past his men without regard. It was a strange sight. When soldiers usually protected their king, his men cleared a path for him as if unleashing a beast onto the field.
Her heart sank slightly after seeing Snowid's target, and she couldn't help but look away, not wishing to see what had happened.
