F
Fair Foxwick
Flowers bloomed upon the square in
springtime. Reds, yellows, and purples evoked festive joy and happiness for the
Foxwickians. Horses’ hooves clip-clopped over the cobblestone streets. Farmer
Donal hawked his wares. “Apples, two for a copper!”
The hammer struck the fiery sword at
Karden’s Blacksmith Shop. He molded horseshoes, weapons, and armor. Although
Foxwick wanted peace, the other kingdoms desired war.
The heady scent of bread and reek of
manure filled the pathways. But the gleam of metal from Foxwick’s soldiers was
never brighter in the noontime sun.
They won the battle, but not yet the
war.
“Hail, Fair Foxwick.”
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