The approaching commander’s helmet plume rose above the rise from the depths of the valley below. Leading rank upon rank of a vast army. He carried no white flag of peace, gave no indication of quarter.
Battle axe at the ready, the guards stood proud and tall while their Lord cowered behind them. In the fading light their barbed fortification seemed vastly inadequate in the face of the approaching horde. But they would not back down, they would accept their fate with honour.
While walking through the valley, this scene unfolded before me. At first, I thought the little tree was being oppressed by the larger two, until my focus slowly moved to the ranks of trees behind it. I also noticed it may not be a little tree at all but the tip of something much larger, marching up towards me from the dip of the valley. The warm evening light misleading at first, created a false sense of security. But the stillness of the air built a silent tension, unease, discomfort, the atmosphere of an impending storm.