The hardest part of walking away from you is knowing that you wont ever run after me. And knowing that while I meant nothing to you you meant the whole world to me. A small dust devil scuries across the hot desert floor, and out of it's wavering heat rides a giant of a man, to meet the last charging Moors. His sun lit castillian sword held high, a warning to the Moors, who yet may die. Birds of prey circle aloft and scream their deadly cry, as they wait for the last invading Moor to die.
Silence befalls the crimson-battlefield.
Feasting upon the unexpected bounty, the scavengers care not why. Their banners no longer flying. Their mounts wandering aimlessly on the desert sand, as the victors steal the gold from the dead Moors' hands. It's the year one thousand, Spain wins the day. Thanks to the mighty El Cid, who fought like a lion to keep the invaders at bay.