Despite repeated protests and pleading, he didn't look back. He knew that it was all up to him, and he was the only one on the battlefield who could determine the outcome of today's war. either be victorious, or die. He stepped boldly forward. Looking into the eyes of his five adversaries, he felt his confidence grow. As he picked up his bow, he looked back. His four uncles were still unsuccessfully battling, trying to break their opponent who wouldn't let them cross the line to save their dear nephew. No. No one would be there for him today.
The sacred thread that his stepmother tied on his biceps had fallen. The sacred thread of protection.
He silently took an oath to keep fighting till his last breath.
He picked up his bow, notched an arrow, and let it fly.
Her eyes see red, her ears hear screams.
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Never To Be Altered #YourStoryIndia
Historical FictionThis is basically a still, from Mahabharata, entirely fictional. The protagonist being a girl of fifteen, and a highly influential personality in the war, the story is her narrative. This is the thirteenth day of the war, when the great warrior Abhi...
