A dull metalic noise echoed through the grove, followed by another dull clank as Ransom hit the floor for the fourth time that night. That in and of itself was not a good sign. On the bright side, he had landed next to his sword. And someone between him and the knight.
Breathing hard, he grabbed the sword and jumped to his feet, holding the sword in a Knight's salute. Time seemed to slow, as each of the three slowly looked each other over. It seemed as the next person to speak would seal their fate....
__________________
"The blood of the dead mixes with the the flowing sand and grants more power to the killer."--Gaara of the Desert
|