--;; as much as i hate to say it i dont own WHR >>;; i just own a clone of Amon that i made

Crimson Death

Washing over the ground like a crimson shadow, the blood quickly began to leak from the multiple wounds covering the young witches body. She was hurt; both internally and externally, pain seeming to seep into every fiber of her being.

"...Amon...Amon...Amon..." over and over this single name fell limply from the girls blood soaked lips and yet, no sound could be heard.

"Amon...Amon...Amon..."the chant continued yet only to befall deaf ears, the movement on her lips only to be seen by blind eyes, and all her desperate calls for help to merely fall onto deaf senses.

By now the blood, the beautifully horrid crimson had formed a small puddle at the feet of the hunter that held her. Her once blond hair now stained by red, cascading limply from her scalp like a bloody waterfall. And yet she didn't care, blood loss, along with numbing her body to the mere brink of death so most physical pain had fled, had opened to her a knew state of mind. A calmer one.

For most, hearing that peace was the last thing felt by a dying person would sound insane, and in all honestly it was. The calmer state of mind the girl found herself in was not peaceful, by the gods no. It was indeed horror filled, with past griefs and fear of what waited on the other side. And yet, it could still only be placed in the category of a fragile yet clam state of mind. A state when all physical pain, wants, and needs disappeared and gave way to that of internal needs. Just as the moon eventually gave was to the sun at each dawn, and vice versa upon the arrival of evening.

While she was calm however Robin did not find herself free of pain. It was much more intense than the normal flesh wounds she got throughout her short, yet fast paced life. Yes it was muchworse, and yet it was easier to handle just as it was to think. Yes it was the clear thinking that she was able to do that made this seemingly horrible sounding state of mind bearable, yet so dreadfully painful that it would cause one of weaker mind to utterly destroy themselves from the inside out.

Whoever said that the life of the dying flashed once more through their vision as they left this world they were correct. And Robin found herself reliving her life, from the moment she was born into the world, up until her current point; held in the arms of her hunter, in no more than a few, bitter sweet moments.

Still calm, and yet dreadfully afraid at the same time the chant once again started up from within Robin, yet it would never reach her lips for it had not even originated within her lungs. No. Not at all. The single, soft and longing filled words "Amon...Amon...Amon" were repeated only from the soul a thing contained within a body and yet not really part of it. The thing released by all as the finale breath is drawn in.

In her finale moments the fire witch felt her body convulse in a violent twitching of death, followed by the pressing of her killers head against her now cold breast. That had only moments before beat with the momentum of her heart, and been warmed by the presence of her craft, that merely lingered as a mere shadow of the past now.

Still feebaly hanging on, the girl felt a hand upon her neck tilting her head upward so that it could be cuddled in a loving, yet regretful embrace.

"Amon...Amon...Amon..."How long she had wished to be held like that by him...and now...

The hand on her frail and broken neck tilted her pale face further up as her killer, her hunter pulled back slightly to stare into her glazed, sea green eyes.

And now...Amon had killed her