Monday, December 21, 2015

100 Words a Day 753

The rain came down in sheets, channeled into raucous waterfalls by the forest canopy. Soak to the bone, the warrior continued to stalk her opponent through the thundering dark. She could hardly see. Her sword led the way, pushing aside bowed branches and vines. The darkness was punctuated by lightning flashes. The brief illumination of the forest sometimes showed signs of her quarry’s passing, muddy footprints or broken branches.

Some warrior instinct was all that saved her when the other struck. Without knowing why, she turned and thrust her sword forward, blade pointing up. Another blade clanged heavily against it.

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