Along with the other fighters her enemies and comrades alike, she joined the fray. Bodies littered the once luscious grass that spread around them on the open plain. Her swords were blur as they sung with the clashing of metal on metal. The thrill of battle thrummed in her blood. As she danced with her blades among both the living and the dead, ducking, rolling, twirling and parrying attacks sent to her from above, behind, and below that came to close to avoid, she noticed a new face amongst the mess of fighting. Sauntering her way through the crowd of bloodthirsty humans she came to a stop behind the new face in the fray of which she did not recognise from either side in the fight.
The cool touch of steel froze him entirely, his muscles tensed under the blade that had found its way in front of his neck leaving, a thick trail of crimson liquid in its wake. Having his throat slit was not what he feared but who the death inducing blade belonged to. He had heard the rumours, of course he had, he had stared death in the face more times than he could count, yet the way she had manged to slink up to him without making a single sound was simply baffling. It should've been impossible. He was anything but human after all. Before he could blink or form any sort of speech, the women had dissipated back into the fray. Crumbling to his knees in relief he drew a sharp breath and whistled for his sorrel coated mare. He cheated death once again.
The sorrel mares ears pricked at the sound of her riders signal, leaving the lush vegetation she had discovered after leaving the battle field. Arriving in front of her owner she let out a small sound of annoyance at him for interrupting her delightful meal. Her owner only chuckled in response at his loyal companion, as he swung himself into the saddle. As soon as he picked up the reins the pommel of a sword had his world fading to black.
