Battlefield Lunch

By Threetoe

The barely humanoid form ripped at the recently dead scattering the battlefield. He scanned the horizon for signs of life, but the only living beings were the widows of fallen soldiers searching for enemies that were still alive so they could torture them with their long knives. The clang of metal sounded across the battlefield and the women scattered. The monster lifted his head from the meal, sharp teeth dripping with blood and body fluids. An armored warrior was slamming his sword against his shield in an effort to drive the scavengers away from what he believed was hallowed ground.

So many of his brothers had died there. His valiant enemies lay there too. Then he saw the monster. A flame began to burn in his soul. The women acted out of vengeance and grief. But this thing had no courage. It did not eat what it killed. It ate those that had given their lives for something greater.

He charged the beast leaping over a fallen enemy. The corpse snaked out a hand and caught the knight's boot. He crashed to the ground and was impaled on a spear. As he rolled over he saw the enemy soldier smiling with grim satisfaction. The monster approached the freshest meal he would have in weeks.