(Completed)
Two assassins were set to kill a girl. No questions asked. Just kill her and claim their prize. That was their mission. Except one of them was not supposed to visit Volney, the land of the dead and the other fall in love with a girl and...
It is just minor changes. So sorry for changing the chapter's name. Some people found it difficult to understand the next chapter.
This chapter is around 4k words. And I have noticed that there are quite a little extra descriptions (only in this chapter). So I would like it if you say where I should cut it down.
START OF A LONG JOURNEY
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From his crouched position, the young assassin looked at the sky. The swirls of pink clouds veiling the stars that his eyes could easily spot promised a strong storm and spoke of heavy snowfall.
He cast his malachite eyes upon the corpse lying before him. The murderer had lacerated the man's face far beyond any recognition.
He was not responsible for this man's death. He would have made a cleaner kill. Only one perfectly placed cut or stab was enough to end his target's entire existence.
Whoever did this had not bothered to hide their tracks; the murderer was in a haste to leave, and the footprints indicated that the killer was running. From what?
Footprints were barely visible in the damp soil. The assassin would have missed them if not for his sharp eyes. He touched the ground beside the dead man. The murderer had killed the man long ago; the liquid next to him was cold and thick. He guessed about twelve hours.
He stood up, wiping his right hand on the leaf nearby. The upper air currents had already found their path to the lower grounds and were descending. The soil had already absorbed the dampness in the air.
The cold currents played with his hair, which blended perfectly with the dancing shadows. The darkness of the midnight hour hid his features, but his silhouette, sharp nose, and jaw stood out in the shadows.
He turned to check the two horses he had tied to a pine tree earlier. One was grey, like ash, and the other was a soft chestnut brown. Both of the warhorses were softly neighing, becoming restless.
Taking turns and standing between the horses, he muttered soothing words to calm them. Perhaps the early end of autumn made all creatures agitated.
