Stretching my arm as high as I could and swinging for the branch hanging barely out of my reach: miss. Again: barely missed. A third time: finally grabbed on. My feet dangled as my arms hung onto the branch, struggling to pull myself up. Behind me, the roars of wolves, the screams of cattle, the cries of the bull, all of those factors motivated me to keep moving, to keep moving for my life. Finally, I managed to pull myself onto the branch, carefully balancing myself to stand on it and climbing further upwards until my vantage point spanned across the clearing and more; just below the thick canopy that concealed the horrors below. Just in the range of my eyesight was the bull, dueling against a horde of wolves, them pouncing and jumping at it at every which angle. This bull was completely jet black with solid gray horns and specks of white dots in its coat. It looked like a Grim Reaper, however in contrast, this time it wasn’t the one being sent to the underworld. Shards of ruby materialized on the bull’s glossy coat, a contrast of day and night against a clean slate.
As the king fell, the citizens were sure to follow, the kingdom fell as the invading forces feasted on the spoils.