As dusk settled over the port the cohort’s commander peered down the cliff towards the river. He froze at the sight before him, in terror. There on the opposite bank, was the enemy contingent they’d been tracking but it seemed they’d merged with the main army. Before him was a sprawled mass that would be the work of legions to destroy, not a single cohort. His eyes narrowed as he scanned the camp for any sign of the prisoners they were so determined to rescue they had tracked the enemy this far. With one last scan of the sight before him, he turned and scrambled back down to his men.
Inspired by the first line of ‘Centurion’ by Simon Scarrow.
Written for today’s daily prompt: Call Me Ishmael this is my first post of the new year.