83. Fight On.

The rain continues to soak us to the bone and I no longer feel its sharp needles prickling my body, numbed as it is by the cold. Moving by rote I swing and parry, feet moving in their own wary dance across stones slippery with water, blood and gore. And still they come. Wave upon relentless wave. Their twisted forms rushing forwards in the lustful battle-thrall painted clear on faces contorted in grotesque smirks. They blur into one as my sword cuts a path before me, eyes unable to tell one from another, ears now closed to the sounds of rending flesh and agonising screams. A single thought remains as I fight on. I must survive.


A/N

I will leave this here for you to make up your own mind who's thoughts these are...

Thanks for reading.

Nyx