The goat looked at the grave and slowly went around it. There was something about it that fascinated him. Apprehensively, he came closer and tried to decipher the words on the stone.
To his utter shock it was his grave. Suddenly everything came back to him; the glory and the bloodshed.
He had himself chosen his burial ground. It belonged to an equally proud and vicious man. He had that man and every one of his tribe butchered.
He had to have a grave that would make his memory everlasting.
The goat looked at the dogs sniffing at the grave and moved away.
A post for Friday Fictioneers
Word count 103