• The hill extended past the waning sun, so that the colors of red and blue blended together. Each step was another pain, agonizing and torturous. Still she had no choice but to continue moving. They were behind her at every turn. They hid in the withered trees, whose limbs resembled arms that reached and stretched for some peace and greenery that would never grace their barks. The wounds that she had suffered earlier were throbbing, and the scraps that marred her body were pulsing with every motion. Still she continued, almost in a trance.
    She had long ago dulled the pain in her mind, focusing only on the rocky road ahead. The mountain was steep, but nothing she hadn’t climbed before. Fleeting, she realized that blood covered every inch of the ground she stepped, barefooted, on. Again, it did not even register. All that mattered, all that was permitted, were thoughts of reaching the mountain top before night reached its highest hour. Then she would be safe. The stench of blood, human and demon, reached even as far as she was from the battle field.
    The sun vanished in smoke and the air chilled, grasping at her with greedy, cold hands, attempting to slow her steady process. As if the hands were real, she sliced in vain with the butt of her reaper rifle, only to cut through air. The sound reached her ears though, informing her she had not lost her hearing, despite the screams and shouts of battle that were previously filling the lands. As she trudged up yet another hill, her foot caught an upturned root. Cursing, she lifted her aching foot in an attempt to dislodge it.
    Her breath came in pants and huffs, the situation at hand finally reaching her frozen mind. A snap, a quick sound of leaves rustling caused her to turn rapidly in the direction of the sound. From the shadows a figure appeared in no better condition than her. He stood, covered in demon blood that caked his Reaper heavy metal suit, and stared at her in a haze. He seemed to look as if she weren’t truly there. When the air between them froze almost completely, he moved.
    His footsteps, heavy due to the armor plating, echoed through the quiet hell. He bent down in his huge suit to help pull her foot from the root. “I didn’t expect to see anybody else alive,” he said, his voice deep and heavy with weariness. She stared at him, licking her dry cracked lips. He stared up at her from the crouch he was in and gave a small smile. He had fiery green eyes, and light brown hair, long enough to just touch his shoulders. Even covered in blood he was handsome. She couldn’t help but notice he still had the tattoos on his face.
    Afraid her voice would crack, she pointed a finger to his markings. He blinked in confusion before smiling sadly again. “
    Yeah, you guessed right, even with the suit on. I’m a Reaper. Name’s Trace.”
    She gulped, unable to speak through her dry throat. Clearing the pain that was lodged in her throat, she coughed and patted her chest.
    “I’m Sayla. A sorceress.”
    His face registered shock. Seeing a sorceress on a demon battle field was not uncommon. Seeing one alive after the war was another story. The woman before him was slim, with gold eyes typical of the sorceress breed, and long wavy gold hair. A pretty little thing, caked in blood and dirt.
    The air moved, swiftly, whispering of screams and curses. The moon rose steadily, laying the land in a shift of pale light. The two sat looking at each other in shock and curiosity. Even with the stench of foul blood, the threat of the demons of hell, and the frozen cold in the air, the mood shifted to one of hope, and comfort. In the distance a wolf howled in pain and sadness. The last vestiges of light disappeared in a cloud of darkness. The Reaper soldier smiled again.
    “Let’s find someplace to stay, Sayla.”
    The howl of the wolf echoed as the two, soldier and sorceress limped up the endless hill.