An enormous battle; one to surely be renowned in history, was finally coming to its end. Yes…this was one of the greatest defeats of all time for the Rose Army, and who better to lead it than a woman? The numbers of casualties on both sides were extreme, ranging well into the high thousands and possibly even millions. But only the gods would ever know how many lives had been lost, for they were to burn the bodies, riding the land from any future diseases.
Sarah took off her helmet, letting it drop to the ground and wiping away the sweat from her forehead with her left arm, as her right hand held her sword. She sighed as she looked upon the battlefield of fallen men—her men. She was the commander of the Rose Army, second to none but King William and Queen Margaret (which hardly counted, for the Queen held absolutely no political power).
The commander's hand began to shake uncontrollably; she hadn't put her sword down for close to five days. She had eaten little, and when one of her generals had pulled her out to sleep, she couldn't. Sarah returned her sword to its scabbard while she still could, and then fainted atop the bloodied corpses and stained earth.
One of her soldiers saw her fall, and feared the worst. Rushing to her with all his speed took great energy. He too had been fighting for long days, countless nights, and here at the end, he was drained from all his strength, carried on only by adrenaline. He loved his commander, and she him, this was the reason why he didn't mind dieing for her. He respected her, and she loved each and every one of her men and respected them each in turn. A woman she was, well hardly that, being still a young lady at the tender age of nineteen, but she had knowledge and wisdom beyond her years, and she had a heart like no other.
"Commander?" He asked, now kneeling at her side. "Sarah?" Maybe not addressing his commander properly was ill mannered but, he had heard her name many times before, and maybe she would respond to that better. But there was no answer.
With his hands he pushed away the chain mail from her neck to feel her pulse. He relaxed, she was still alive, but she felt deathly cold and looked paler than snow. She had lost so much blood! The wound was hidden under all of her armor and padding, and the soldier couldn't tell where the gash was. He thought for a second to take off her armor to see the wound and maybe he could stop the bleeding. But if he were to removed the armor, there was the possibility that without the metal pressed to her body tightly, she could easily bleed to death much faster, and there would be no hope in saving his commander.
The soldier wasted not another second as he scooped up her fragile looking body into his arms, carrying her to the medical units.