The Warrior never stops

The blood shed wont stop..

"I wasn't always the one being hunted. I used to be a hunter.."

Blood ran down, flowing towards the small pond of blood which had already been collected from the essence of his skin. Rugged scars of red liquid dripping to his fingers. "Is everything supposed to go dark?" he moaned, as the cloudy sky began to cry in pity for him. Crooked arrows stuck out of his back, with muscle tissue on the tips of each arrow. His feet didn't walk, they were dragging him up. Up to the sky. Up to a hill, where the rain is the heaviest-

. . . 

"Everything hurts" the boy recalled, brushing off a splatter of blood from his mouth, tasting nothing but dirt and ash on his dry tongue. It was not the end, he thought, lashing a swoop of his sword into the air, slashing the air particles. What was the purpose of this? the boy asked to myself, searching a reason to live.. 

But he was.. in the dark- There was no sign of light in his life. Yet his body groaning for one, his mind drifting to nothingness. He fell to his feet, face first in the sour brown-mud. As he hits the ground, the arrows dig deeper into his body, burying their metal ends into him. 

"I am a moron. A complete and utter moron"...