Arrows, hundreds of them, dotted he blue sky black. The sun gone as screams lingered in the background. The wind gently blew the bushes and the leaves on the trees.
The stench of dead bodies littered everywhere---Outlaws and men from the garrison. The ones that weren't dead, dragged against the floor, running as they took off parts of their armour.
"Ahhhhn!" Mosa screamed, veins bulged on his neck as he clutched his leg.
Can't believe I took an arrow to the knee.
Blood erupted from it like a volcano.
The soldiers were shot down, anywhere from between the forehead to the chest.
Then there they were, off in the horizon. The opposing forces, with their horses thumping against the earth swinging their clean swords into Mosa's fleeing comrades.
"ARGH!" Mosa widened his mouth as he shouted, his face became all red as he lets out short bursts of air.
"Oh no…" A fellow soldier beside him stood up, all covered in dirt and blood as he looked ahead as the opposing forces were getting closer.
"We gotta run." He said as he looked like he had just seen a ghost, turning the ghastly face towards Mosa.
"No…" Mosa gripped the arrow tightly, pulling it as he sweated more profusely causing more blood to spill over as his flesh released it. Then quickly put his two hands on the wound and applied pressure.
*Huff* *Huff* *Huff*
There…all better…
"…"
"We can still at least do something…" As Mosa tossed the damn arrow to the side.
"Are you retarded?" The soldier said while the helmet hid his face. His blonde hair flowed out of the sides.
But even the helmet on his face couldn't hide the disgust. Mosa's eyebrow twitched as he subtly recoiled.
"We're short on men…" The soldier sighs.
"You're injured as well, and on your leg of all places!" He pointed at Mosa's leg as Mosa tried to cover it the more.
"How do you want to even run?! Let alone fight?!" He put his finger on his temple as his voice raised up.
"..." Mosa's vision, fixed back on his injured knee.
This can't be it…right?
"No… what's the least we can do? Huh?" The soldier waved his hands in the air.
"Arghh…" He stopped as he gently pressed his right arm, specifically his shoulder area as the cloth above it absorbed red.
"There's no hope for us." His vocal cords sounding strained.
"They're on horses and we're on foot." His eyes facing downwards into a puddle of blood, his face barely reflecting in it.
The remaining soldiers—the ones that could still run at least, all passed them by, some even dropped their helmets, parts of their armour as they bolted away.
"Why aren't you guys running?! There's no hope!" A soldier asked them as he passed them.
They both replied with their faces facing downwards, both lips sealed.
"Well suit yourself." The soldier shrugs his shoulders and runs as he takes off his chest plate.
Mosa, his hands tensed up as he took in a deep breath.
"Even if we run---"
An arrow swiftly flew towards them, it moved at what seemed as instant as sound itself.
Their eyes saw this, but their bodies not able to react in time, both braced themselves in anticipation of whoever it'll hit.
But then---they felt nothing.
"AHHHR!!"
Instead----The soldier that just passed them, an arrow sticking out of his back.
THUD!
The soldier beside Mosa sighs…
"---It still wouldn't make a difference." The fellow soldier's eyes sockets, hollow.
Should've kept his chestplate.
His mind said sarcastically.
The soldier's body dropped towards the ground as the arrows stop coming with shouts and warcrys being heard.
"No… it can't be…" Mosa's face squinted as his eyes dotted hastily as if looking for something. After looking for nothing, his face relaxed.
"So this is it huh…" He slowly released his hands from his knee.
"No…Not exactly…" The fellow soldier continued.
Mosa looked at the soldier, his eyebrows about to touch each other.
"That your will to fight… it could come in handy…"
"And it sort of gives hope…y'know…"
What hope?
"But what could you mean?" Mosa looked directly at him, his face squeezed up like paper.
---The end of chapter 4---