The heavy clouds that gathered throughout the day burst at last, unleashing torrents onto the backs of the retreating invaders. Victoria removed her helmet and tilted her face to the sky.
Rivers of rain washed through layers of dried blood and dirt on her cheeks. She wiped them away with the back of her arm and looked past the carnage at her feet to where her own army’s riders chased the enemy into the hills.
A soft moan drew her attention. Just a few feet ahead, half-buried under the corpse of a much larger man, a boy pushed himself up. He drank desperately from the downpour, not looking her way even when she unsheathed her sword and stepped toward him.
He couldn’t have been older than fourteen. His skin was smooth, with no hair on his chin and no scars on his face. None yet, at least. The gash that ran from his temple to his ear would leave a mark, if he lived long enough for it to heal.
She held her weapon ready as she approached. As young as he may be, he had come to conquer her land. There was only one way to negotiate.
“Surrender.”
He looked at her with defiance that faded when he saw the tip of her blade. Lowering his head, he raised his arms. A gloved hand clamped down on her shoulder from behind.
“I’ll do it if you can’t.”
Christopher kept his voice low, but the boy must have heard. His eyes grew wide with panic, and a strangled whimper caught in his throat. Victoria shook her head.
“Look at him. He didn’t come here on his own. He was sent here to die.”
Her comrade’s jaw tensed, and he pulled his hand away. “He was sent here to kill, and I’m sure he did plenty of that. Do you think they would show mercy if we’d let them overrun our home? You’re a soldier. Think like one.”
Raising her chin, she met his stare with a cool look of her own. “Then remember, I outrank you. This battle is over. I won’t kill a boy in cold blood.”
“You won’t. I will.”
Christopher drew his sword. With three quick steps, he crossed the muddy field to the young warrior whose legs were still pinned under his fallen compatriot. The boy opened his mouth, but he had no time to speak. The blade pierced his throat, and nothing passed through his lips but his blood.
Victoria watched in silence as Christopher cleaned his steel on the foreigner’s wet tunic before sliding it back into its sheath. Another enemy was dead. What more could she say?
“I won’t tell anyone that you hesitated.”
His eyes were kind when he turned back to face her, and a look of understanding passed between them. She shook her head.
“No. You should tell them. You deserve a promotion.” With a wistful smile, she glanced over her shoulder. Her village was hidden in the storm, but she knew it was still there. She knew she would see it soon.
Maybe this time she would get to retire.
Inspired by the 5 Minute Freewrite Prompt - Warrior provided by the lovely 
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