A/N: I'm going to attempt a multi-chapter story, and I hope you guys will like it. If you do want to read on, please review and tell me!
She was cold. But she could not feel the wind that swept through her long hair and flew through her armour. She could not feel the ground beneath her feet as she stood firmly on the muddy grass, careful not to slip. She could not hear the screams that came from ahead, behind and either sides. She could not taste the blood as a dripped down her face from a wound on her head. She could not smell the blood of others, as it mixed into the water that ran along tiny trenches made from hundreds of stampeding boots. She could not see the people she knew being cut down on each side, their lives being quickly and brutally ended.
All she could see was him.
He was on the opposite side of the field, sword swinging from side to side – slicing and chopping whatever it could reach. He also wore armour; thicker than hers, heavier, stronger. He too had received scars from the short battle that had already gone on too long. His head was slashed, as was his arm. It made no difference, however. He fought as ferociously as the rest, perhaps more so. But there was another difference between him and his fellow fighters, a more obvious one. Whilst with his right hand he held a sword, his left hand was no longer completing his arm. In its place was a hook – shining in the slight rays of sun that had pierced the clouds as he swung it independently of his remaining arm.
It had been many years since she had last seen him, but of his identity she was sure. He had changed, of course. When she had last said goodbye to him he had been much younger, as had she. He had a smaller stature, skin clean of scars and all of his appendages. And his eyes had been brighter; full of hope, excitement, and the want to see the world and the wonders and secrets it held. He appeared to have found the secrets, but not thought them so wonderful. His skin was marked now, scars and drawing were scattered along it. He was tall, but not extremely so – still being dwarfed by many of the men around him. He had the scythe at the end of his arm. And his eyes…oh, his eyes. They were dark. It was as if he had held the world in his arms and had it snatched away. Brilliant blue eyes that had once been filled with joy were now empty and emotionless. As was he, it seemed.
He slashed and slaughtered, men dropping down as soon as he reached them and none managing to get close enough to strike back. He did not seem to notice anything around him either, not the men screeching in pain as they fell, or the ones coming towards his with vengeance in their eyes before they too were cut down. He simply marched forwards, coming closer to her with each strike and each step.
She had not moved, simply stood on her spot in the centre of the battlefield as chaos continued to erupt around her. Some had tried to slice or scratch her, but had been thrown back by the force of her shield. She held no weapon but power surrounded her - an aura that flowed through the air and the ground. As she began to realise where she was standing, she looked around and saw bodies piled up and more standing on top of them as they continued to fight. Swords, daggers and arrows were swinging and flying past her as she calmly raised her arm and pointed towards one of the enemies. Within seconds, he crumpled and she moved onto the next one and the pattern was repeated.
It was impossible to know how long it had been since the horn had blown to single the start of the battle; impossible to estimate the amount of graves that would have to be dug and the amount of families that would be left without one of its members. The few slithers of sunlight that had squeezed through the brewing storm clouds had long since been crushed and darkness reigned. She had been in a trance for who knows how long, repeating the same pattern over and over. Removing the enemy from fights with her men, from the battle altogether. He had done the same, moving closer ad closer as he took down men with swift strokes and jabs. They were but feet apart; all that was separating them was the piles of men that lay in the mud. As the horn blew again, signalling the end of the battle, they looked up. And found themselves staring into each other's eyes, hers filled with recognition and his with confusion.
They stood there, his sword and hook and her hands by their sides and their eyes new leaving the other's. Her mouth began to open, when she heard shouting from behind her. Looking around, she saw the man that had reached safety calling to her and signalling for her to follow them. Others were running towards them, and she saw the enemy doing the same thing and she turned back around to him again. But he had gone, and as she saw him sprinting past his allies with his sword now sheathed in his belt she lifted her hand once more and twisted it abruptly, disappearing in a cloud of white smoke. She did not see him twist as he continued to run, his dark eyes still full of bewilderment and apprehension.