Faith’s Hand

He rode off into the night, mittens of soft fog closed around them, momentarily brushing across his face and touching the flanks of the horse as if protecting hands were reaching down from above, pushing them safely along on their journey.

It was fitting somehow that the fierce battle earlier in the night between brave William and faithless Lord Drak, had ended with Drak bleeding on the ground, slain under the bright moon with a sword, which had been guided by an unseen but ever present hand, and the conquering champion William now riding off into a mist enshrouded night, traveling by faith alone through the darkness, unscathed.

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