Writing Exercise 1

It fell the way many things fell from that world- as a strike of lightning to the earth.  A tree split down the middle, falling apart in a blaze of terrible beauty, framing the figure with orange light.  It stood on unsure legs, knees buckling with a desire to give, body twitching from crackles of electricity winding around it.

Water flooded down from the black clouds in the sky, hissing in the flames and drenching the soldier clad in white.  The simple tunic hugged her meager frame like a lover, rippling in liquid-like manners both thick and fluid.  Her boot covered feet tottered forward in the mud, sticking and peeling, sinking and sliding.  She tumbled like a marionette with its strings cut, face splashing in filth on the ground as strands of snowy hair were clumped together by the muck.

Her hands sunk into the sludge as she rose, mouth hanging slightly open as she softly, slowly panted.  Droplets beaded and fell from her nose, chin and lips, and her golden eyes glowed in the light of the slowly shrinking fire.  She stumbled forward and made use of another tree, supporting herself as she became accustomed to moving her feet.

A bolt of light struck in another part of the forest, flashing against the clouds and shaking the world with thunder.  In the town at the base of the mountain, another such strike occurred.