Highlands

Senseless courage, this heart that yearns for the change and the body that charges in the battlefield for freedom. At the sound of rain drops, the horses breath the humid atmosphere and the people of this lands begin to feel the winds changing, their luck fading. When hope was a bottle of dirty water deep down in the well, there a hero comes disguise as a mere human, mortal and weak. He took the hearts of the people with a speech of rebelion and the eyes of fury. The sword fused with his body and there he left the village along the men to conquer their own rightful place in the world, lost a long time ago, given from cowards to swines. And there he yield the sword, up and towards the sky, no Sun to make her shine but with the bravery of a nation in his soul.
Bloody temper charged against their wooden walls, conquering and slaughtering, sending a message to a foul king, that a nation is not a nation without a a sword, a heart and a soul to command it. His words roared far beyond the realms of thievery and lies and fear took over the hearts of those who would betray him once again. City after city, lord after lord, they all fell after they saw the eyes of victory enraged against them. And with a last whisper they regretted the day they sold they souls for a piece of land that would kill them. Then the sword went through their bodies and a yell of victory reached the shores of the sacred lake, where the magical beast was awakened to help her nation in need.
Fate came at the speed of the night in this cursed land. The hero had gone out of battle, he found the love bigger than what he fought for. In his bed rested the roses of a time of peace, his army commanded by another man. Her hands calmly and gently passing through his body, their souls consuming the love for each other, their bodies building and controlling the heat of the night, under a naked moon and the stars as guides to safety. The wind whispered only in the corners of imagination and the hero rested a calm night in a life of war.
Soon the day came and his head was asked in every village. The world had turned against him, all those who cheered for him once had betrayed him and tried to capture him. His love had gone to the land of the ghost, he was alone in the coldness. In the middle of so much anger and fear, he lost the battle and went prisoner to the king. His eyes cried a soul that lost it's hope once again and he screamed at the skies as he watched his love asking him to return to her, "FREEDOM". His head rolled to the ground and his life was gone. Man would come to continue and end his work but for now his body was torn apart and sent to the corners of England, order of the sadistic king of a nation who slaved those equal to them. His legend lived on. May his spirit roam in freedom and love to find a more just life and kingdom to call his own. In your honour, William Wallace.