Brynhildr heard the elf muttering on the ground, and only caught the words 'arrogant whore.' Her mind flooded with anger. "I'm arrogant, eh? I'll show you arrogant, little elf." she hissed. She was so caught up in herself that she didn't even defend herself when the girl's blade hurtled towards her. It hit her square in the shoulder, rendering her arm useless. She cursed herself; she'd let the wench hit her! Maybe she was arrogant. Had she really underestimated her opponent so much that she'd led it hit her? If your opponent is alive, it is still a threat, she chastised herself silently. What kind of warrior could ever forget that?
The pain was so much that it burned through her veins like the ice-cold flames of hell, tongues of darkness teasing the edges of her vision. She almost embraced oblivion, but then her instincts took her over, reminding her that everything she was depended on living. Death was not pleasant; some part of her knew this, although she couldn't remember how. Death was like where the land and sea met; the sea floor changed, shaped by the environment around it, living in harmony with the clams and fish around it until the tide came. The waves washed away everything, and then nothing that the sea floor had ever been mattered. It had become a blank slate, making way for a new life.
"I'm not going to die, wench. Your demise will make way for my triumph, and the world will go on as if you never existed," Brynhildr hissed. "This is the natural order of life, and nothing will ever change it."
With her arms, she chopped at the back of the neck. There was a pressure point there that would knock the elf unconscious if hit, and the pain from using her injured arm would likely knock her out as well. She knew that the elf would never wake up from her sleep, but also that there was a chance that she may not wake up either. Either way, her limbs had decided for her; the blow had been struck. Pain raced up her arm like lightning, striking her to the ground and tightening every muscle in her body. As she faded from consciousness, she realized the horse had come up to her and was nuzzling her affectionately, encouraging her to get up. She petted its soft, velvet-like nose, fighting against the darkness for just a few moments. "It'll be alright. This old horse is done fighting for now," she whispered. "I'll see you in the morning, sweetheart."
Then she fell into the abyss, shadows picking her apart until there was nothing but shatters of senseless, broken dreams.
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