Swords clashed. There were screams and yells: commands and screams of anger and agony flew together, becoming unfathomable words. Ivana grasped her left arm. It bled freely from another's sword, like her side was. Not my first battle, will not be my last, she gasped. She's never been injured to the extent her muscle tissue would not move. To put it simply: It hurt. Ivana limped away from the battle field, where blood tainted the steel earth. She headed for the river, where he promised to be. She held on to her arm like her tenacious hold to life. She didn't want to die yet.
He was there. His back was cut. He scraped his head aliitle. He was bleeding. So much blood spilled in this war, her mind lingered quietly. She still was to young to be able to know the intricate dealings of why war was so sad. He turned around, grabbed Ivana and told her they had to run; there were more coming. Ivana gave him a opaque stare. Tired.... They headed south, following the river. Rest... Pain. Her eyes blinked, hysteria flew. They had come. More of them. She could hear more fights coming from her other comrades in all directions. All trying to flee the endless war.
Ambushed, and suprised. She and he were attacked. Pushing him to the side, and they hit her; losing balance, fear entered her eyes. I'm going to die. I'm going to fall in. Her working right hand outstretched. She saw him give one last attempt to save her from falling. The desperation of his fated grasp...so close. Their fingers met. That was the end.
The black haired girl plummets straight down the edge of the rapids. The earth fed the river itself blood.
She wakes. Alone. It was quiet. It was pain.
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Darkness and Hope go together
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