Preliminary Draft Re-do It was a bloody battle between two groups of the Romans. Both groups fought hard from the time the sun raised in the east and set in the west. Days and days passed by, loving families hoping their loved ones came back safely. This is the story of a two warriors learning each other’s stories. I am a 12 year old girl who was born and raised in Rome. My name is Domitia Quintina. Two armies fought with their lives in a battle to win land. 2 years passed and the war wasn’t settled yet. Fighting till death, only 2 brave warriors remained. Brave and exhausted warriors. They were surrounded by their dead army that was covered in blood. They stood facing each other.
Both warriors were too drowsy that they could barely move. One warrior said, “Let us rest until dawn, and then we will finish this battle. Only one will be going home.” The other battler agreed. After taking off the dented helmets, unstrapped their rusty shields, and sheathed their swords, they both lied down on the cold and hard battle ground, only a few feet away from each other.
They had such a weary feeling from all the killing; they could not shut their eyes. Finally, one turned to the other and spoke, “I have a son at home, and he plays with a wooden sword. He wants to be like me when he gets older.” The other took his turn to speak,” I have one daughter, when I look into her eyes I can see her bright future.”
Both men spent the night sharing their stories, stories of their village, their family, their neighbors, and the stories they heard as a kid on their grandparents’ laps. The night was filled with their personal stories.
When the sun started to creep in, both men put on their helmets, put on their shields, and unsheathed their swords. Both started to stare into each other’s eyes. Slowly backing away and sheathing their swords. Both men headed for home. A white dove soared through the skies, underneath were the bodies of the warriors. They were in peace. The white dove kept flying higher and higher; thus, the Columba constellation was formed.
Moral of the story: You cannot hate when you know their story.

The End