Umm... this is the first story that I've posted on this site... (although not the first I've written), and... well I'm fairly certain it doesn't suck. It's not too long, although it's probably somewhat depressing... Review it if you want... That would be nice... I also don't own Fire Emblem... (big surprise there, eh?)
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It was cold. He was fading. He lay where he had fallen against the rock, blood slowly creeping from the wound at his midsection. Snow was falling; quickly, in large, damp flakes. He liked snow…
The sounds of battle could be heard from nearby. The harsh clash as metal struck metal, shouts and cries whenever it struck something else… A horse squealing in agony as it thrashed about on the frozen ground…
Somewhere above, a hawk screeched and a mercenary fell, screaming all the way, to land nearby. He didn't get up again.
The soldier didn't care anymore. All around him, the motionless forms of black clad men lay gathering shrouds of snow. He felt nothing for them. He was spent; teetering on the edge of oblivion…
He liked snow, but not the snow that was on the ground now. He liked the white, soft flakes that he had enjoyed as a child. Now, the snow was stained an unattractive pink, churned up by the passing of many feet until it was little more than slush. Somehow, that made him sadder than his dead comrades…
He thought about his father, sitting all alone by the fire, waiting patiently for his boy to come home. Who would be the one to tell him? He could picture the look of shock on the old man's face as he found out… bitter tears…
A gust of biting wind came from the direction of the battle… It had quieted down now. There was only one set of swords striking each other, interrupted only by the cries of the wounded and dieing. With an effort that he hadn't thought he had in him, he saw general Homasa locked in combat with the unknown Crimean general. Every swing of Homasa's blade summoned up a gust of cutting wind, strong enough to tear through armour and flesh. Before, he would have watched the fight intently. He had never seen a man fighting with Homasa as an equal before. The only reason he was watching it now was because he lacked the energy to turn his head back. He watched dully as the enemy general's sword struck Homasa square in the chest. The swordmaster fell to his knees, spilling yet more blood onto the already sodden snow. He said something, but it was too far away for the soldier to hear…
The soldier let out a small sigh. Slowly, his eyes slid shut, and he allowed himself to drift off into a dark, final sleep. Another silent, still form shrouded in white.
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And... we're done... Thanks for reading if you got this far...