There was once a rich and powerful kingdom called Modeñia. The King of Modeñia’s name was Karshë; he was peace loving, and a good ruler. In fact, his passion for peace was so strong, it blinded him to the looming danger. For, when war threatened, he went to the enemy himself to ask for peace, not understanding that the enemy did not want peace, and failing to first prepare a defense...

   This is the sad story of the Kingdom of Modeñia, and of the brave Prince Zobed. This is my story, the faithful friend and servant of Prince Zobed.

 *A/N* Okay, so I wrote this last night in a crazy book-happy writing frenzy (which happened because I posted how much I loved Reckless on Cornelia Funke's Reckless facebook page, and she replied!!!!!!!). I'm trying to reveal more of David's past, but I haven't written much of this lately, so I was having trouble getting into his skin. So, sorry if his mood changes weirdly or if either he or Marie are acting out of character. Constructive criticism would be great. :)

*A/N* I've been having such writing block that I've been trying just to let the creativity flow, so this writing style is a little bit different. And there has been ZERO editing, so if there are any really terrible grammatical errors or mispellings, please let me know. Critiques are more than welcome, as always!!!!

*A/N* Inspired by the song The Enemy by Mumford and Sons (my current favorite song ever) the link to it (everybody should listen!) is here: http://www.mumfordandsons.com//news/listen-to-the-enemy-for-wuthering-heights This particular storyish-type-thing is very muddled, unclear, and grammatically incorrect. It's basically a stream of emotions from a borderline- insane/dying man who is hallucinating about a mistake he made involving a woman he loved. I hope everyone is able to enjoy it!

Chapter Seventeen

We both looked through the gate once more. The street was still empty behind us.

“How long will it take to cross the mountains to this side of the City, if we are on the other?” I asked. He answered me slowly:

“Two days if we do not halt and keep a running pace.” I shook my head. I did not think we could spare that much time. Yet we were wasting it now. I looked away from everything, and pictured in my mind the course of the streets within Hethwenthor.

*A/N* keep in mind that this may be a little choppy! Constructive criticism is not only welcome but appreciated!!!

Gun shots were roaring unceasingly. War had gripped by the waist the city’s walls. It was stifling in the small one-roomed house in which Adelaide had taken refuge in after praying in the chapel. The fire was blossoming to its full flaming power; yet, nay, its light was not bright enough to overcome the terror and sorrow of the injured soldiers, men, women, even children, lying on mattresses and blankets filling the room. Many were the wounded. Many were the gashes, tears, bullet-wounds to be tended.