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Creative Writing: The Western Front

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Creative Writing: The Western Front
Nique crouched at the edge of the river with one hand dangling above the watery surface, the tips of his fingers slicing through the cool depths. With a soft sigh, he slid his eyes closed and tipped his head back as if to better feel the sun’s warm rays bathing down on him. Perhaps he enjoyed the serene beauty surrounding him, the peace reigning supreme over the small valley. Whatever the reason, the man remained a moment more before rising to his feet, a walking stick in one hand, the other resting against the obsidian hilt of his sword. He seemed to hesitate, his gaze sweeping over the area, but then he turned and slipped deeper into the thick
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