The Battle of Morhange

Morhange crouched behind the overturned bench and peered through the slats of the wood to watch the opposing team plan on taking him down, their faces marked with red and white paint, as was his and his palms were sweating under the clutch of the wooden spear. He quickly glanced around at his army, which was sprawled out on the ground, their chests slowly rising and falling, their eyelids fluttering in the bright light, occasionally one would looks up and smile at him, but he would hush them and push them back to the ground, they had been taken down during the last battle, he was the only survivor, and leader of his once proud force. The battle had taken a large chunk from the opponents as well, but they were left with a little over ten men. They now stood plotting against him, he, after all, was the quickest and most skilled when it came to this sort of thing.

Morhange hadn't had this much fun in ages maybe even his whole life, he was fourteen and these sorts of childish games had never been exposed to him, it was rather sad that his childhood had been deprived of so many things, but now something had changed, he wasn't sure what, but it had changed everything so drastically.

The clatter of someone's wooden spear on the stone about a foot away from him broke his thoughts in half and the grip around the spear in his hand tightened as a flicker of a smile creased his lips. Pépinot was now standing at the front of the group, he was the youngest of any of the children, and had only been elected leader because he was small enough to be lifted onto the other's shoulders, his tiny grin was full of happiness and he shouted to the others to move out.

And the marched, granted it wasn't a far march, but when most were ten or eleven, it was long enough. Then they stopped in front of him and Pépinot shouted, "Charge!!!"

"You'll never take me alive!!!!" he responded with a grin jumping up onto the bench and hold his spear like a riffle, then as several boys fell he ran to the other side of the courtyard.

"There's only one other way to take him!" yelled Pépinot, as he was lifted onto another boy's shoulders and carried back after Morhange. "Give it up," he smiled only a few moments later, after they had cornered the survivor with his spear to his neck.

Morhange shook his head, then Pépinot made a move as if killing him, and he fell.

"Nice game," the little boy said helping him up, as everyone else who had been killed got to their feet. And everyone rushed for their sides to start the game over.

For all those who cannot for the life of them find a "The Chorus" story on fanfiction. Please enjoy and let me know what you think of this tiny blurb!