“Things will never be the same after we do this,” the hushed, aged voice said.
The younger, more eager voice replied, “No, no they won’t and for good reason, if things were to ever return to the same as before, then…” it hesitated, “I suppose, change is simply not meant to be…”
A brief pause, “Are you ready?” The elder voice returned.
“I am.” The younger one said confidently then added, “I just hope the rest of the world is.. or at least will be when the time comes.”
“Very well, let it begin.”
* * *
Several hundred years later...
The air was dry, it hadn’t rained for five days and even the insects cried out for a little relief. Their clicks and chirps were off beaten, and for a time the only sound in the air. The midday sun shone onto the dusty clearing, as a light eastern breeze whipped by.
The stone fortification stood as a testament against the elements. It was three stories tall, two large openings, shut with enormous wooden doors faced into the clearing surrounded by woods. At each story an overreaching balcony jutted out.
Along the second balcony, four feet wide at the widest, two men stood, one was leaning against the balcony’s edge wall and surveyed the area.
The trees swayed as the breezes gusted by, “Wind feels good, eh, Dennis?” he said pushing his rounded metal helmet up off his forehead enough to wipe the gathering sweat.
The other leaned against the inner wall, “That it does, Wade,” Dennis held his helmet against his side and leaned his head back, his wet, matted brown hair barely moved. Bundles of arrows were piled onto the walkway, just to the side of each of their bows.
“The hell ol’ Grom’s got us watchin’ for at this time o’ the day?” Dennis continued bringing his head back down. The insects continued their cries unto the heavens, wishing for even the minutest means of refreshment.
Wade turned his head, and the helmet fell back into place, “Whaddya mean? You don’t think anyone would attack in the middle of the day?”