We had to do a creative writing piece in English, so I did this
It was a cold morning and the young man drew his cloak about him more tightly to ward of the icy chill on the wind that invaded every part of his body, as black locks of hair whipped his face relentlessly. His cloak was soaked right through from the constant drizzle of the rain, water dripping his from his hood and into his violet coloured eyes.
His feet splashed through puddles of mud, splattering the bottom of his cloak as he hurried through the forest at a break neck pace and into the open plains of the valley’s before him. Thick black clouds hung in the sky and thunder rumbled in the distance, a prelude to the brewing storm that would rip across the region. He shifted his sword on his hip, feeling a little uncomfortable and pushed on once more.
The young warrior had travelled for many day and many nights with barely any rest, and usually travelling at the same hurried pace through lands both dark and dangerous, filled with monsters and creatures not seen by mortal men of this world. His sword was stained with the blood of his enemies from the countless battles he had fought to get this far, his determination driving him far beyond the point of exhaustion.
The cold bit and clawed at his bandaged leg, making it ache from the pressure he was putting on it, forcing himself to run when he should not have been able to any longer. His eyes were weary and his felt heavy, he wanted sleep, he need it, but he dared not out of fear of never waking up again. His destination was within arms reach and would not falter now; he would not give up, not now, not when he was so close.
And so he pushed his weary thoughts aside and continued on and into the cold dark storm, his journey would go on, and he would see it through to the very end, through the darkest of lands and most brutal of any tempest thrown at him, even if he had to see it through alone.
sorry Kris, I can't think today Y_Y
Thanks for moving it