Highland-warriors -

For weeks, the lowland forces had been pushing north, their heavy cavalry and polished armor clashing with the wild stillness of the glens. They saw the Highlands as a frontier to be tamed, but to Alistair, the mountains weren’t just land—they were a fortress that breathed.

The Lowlanders charged, their boots sinking into the deceptive bog. Then, the MacLeods moved. They didn't march; they surged like a landslide. Alistair led the charge, his kilt snapping in the wind as he cleared the distance with the practiced ease of a man who had run these crags since childhood. highland-warriors

Alistair stood atop a jagged outcrop, wiping his blade on a tuft of grass. He looked out over the glen, silent once more. They hadn't won the war—not yet—but as long as the mist rolled through the heather and the pipes sang in the dark, the Highlands would never be truly conquered. For weeks, the lowland forces had been pushing

Should we focus the next part on a between rival clans or a daring midnight raid on a coastal fortress? Then, the MacLeods moved