THE DEATH OF SIR GREY

         Sir Grey Arm was meandering down the street when he heard a sound to his right he

turned to face what the sound. He was feeling nervous, it was something he had not felt before.

In his right side was a great deal of pain resided there. his hand felt some fluid run across his

left hand as it held itself there. He looked at his hand to see red fluid trickle, spilled between

his fingers as he looked at. It felt warm to the touch as it fell from wrist of that hand and side.

Pain rode through him like a horse galloping away from him.


         He was concerned because he could not see Marissa, where was she? Was that why he

was here on this street, he could not remember where he was. His brow was furrowed. The

pain caused his knees to buckle.


         He did not recognise the street. He remembered it from somewhere But where he did not

know. He was afraid of what he was feeling. Some thing about this made him nervous. His

mouth had grown dry, he felt a chill that seeped into his bones, His hands trembled as he held

his hands closed. He felt his nails dig into his palms as he walked down the street.


         Turning every now and again to see if he could see who done this to him. He knew his

eyes would not betray him, but he saw no one anywhere around. He walked toward the end of

the street, to see if he could find him.


         His eyes sought the cause of this pain. He did not see what had hit him, it was a few
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inches wide this hole that was what it was. That caused his fingers to be wet with what he

assumed was blood. He felt thick warm threads fall through his fingers were lifted to his eye

level to see what was on my fingers.


         His foot steps have slowed a might. He was feeling dizzy. His stomach was lurching as

he moved. His breath caught in this throat. He hacked and coughed, blood slipped down his

chest. His hand also felt a cold hard object there as well, there were small ringlets beneath this

fragile surface, he was puzzled this surface once was hard as stone, where the tear was just

below the surface. These ringlets tore his flesh of his opposing hand. He wrenched his hand

free from the ringlets.


         Why wasn't he wearing his armor. He should have put it on. Where was he as however he

felt as if it was not needed, when he did not need the armor he wore. He thought, he was

wearing his armor that was why his hand felt the hard surface and ringlets that made up the

mail he wore.

          He did not know where he was. He looked about the street he was on, He did not

recognise the street he was on. The street was deserted, the buildings looked as though they

had been built of stone. The buildings had marking of the words that he did not recognise

either.


         His ears heard sounds quite a distance from him. He did not have to worry about this

sound or did he.


         In the moonlight he saw a mist which rose in the general direction he looked, the sound

he recognized was that of an object moving from its sheath, the buildings there vanished in the

mist. The mist was a white color, hearing sounds of feet falling upon the earth from that distance

were growing closer toward him. The sounds were growing louder. He squinted in that direction

but did not see a cause for this sound to reach his ears.


          He felt he was being watched by someone, but who? He did not know. A chill slipped

across his back. He spun about to see if anyone was behind him, he saw no one there, but

there was a mist slowly growing in size and mass as it crawled across the ground like a

serpent in search of its prey, He was not its prey, He told himself.


          Sir Grey removed his sword from his sheath he glared at the source of this sound that

was coming toward him. He saw nothing, he felt a chill slither up his wrist, It felt as if there

were four objects that touched in going in one direction and another going in an other

direction. It seemed as if it was to encompass his wrist. The hand with the sword was the one

that was encompassed by it.


         He drove his opposing hand toward the other wrist. The cold was so cold. His other hand

hit it. The chill crawled up his arm. It felt as if it was a blaze. His sheath of mail exploded,

sending shards of metal into the air, He was engulfed in the mist. The fire rose and roared in

his ears of this burning sensation.


         He toppled to the ground. He saw boots that were up to the oerson;s thigh, she wore a

skirt of black leather, and a belt as well,on her hip she carried a whip and a sword. Her skin

was white as snow is cold. Her hands were with long nails, her wrists were bracers on them,

she wore a breastplate that covered her torso and bosom. Her forehead was high,with a

widow’s peak on brown hair which fell down her back in a cascading waves, and her eyebrows

were separate, and arched. her nose was petite.Lips were full. Shs stood six feet and was wel

built.


          His eyes saw now, only darkness. He felt as it seeped into his bones that was there. He

was sweating. Felt the cold hard earth where he lay up on his side, the armor cut into his skin.