Carmina (36 mm)

Harlaux She planted her banner in the earth. The dark cloth flapped in the wind behind her, covering the cries of the pack rushing towards her.
The Gehuilpiek were running, bare-headed and crest howling, on the slippery slope.
And the first assailants were withing reach of the blade.
The armor smothered her. The rank smell of sweat added itself to the cloying heat. Drops of sweat beaded down her face, their salt burning her eyes, irritating her skin.
Feint, lunge, parry, thrust... a step aside, needing to take a breath, mouth open, her throat scratched by the air she tried to inhale.
New pain on her side, she threw her hand holding her knife backwards, slicing through flesh.
She was hurt, blood dripped from under the plates of her armor.
She dropped the dagger, her sword weighed on her, she needed both hands to lift it.
It was heavy.
She was sinking deeper into the mud.
She struggled, breathing heavily from fatigue.
She felt herself be overwhelmed.
The pain lessened.
She was still standing, already dead.
"My name is Carmina."
The howling wave crashed over her, spears pierced her, lifted her from the ground.