Just so you know, this is bloody. If you don't like that kind of stuff, don't read any farther. This is also part of a novel, but i don't know how to set it up as one...
This does have some fantasy elements to it, but it think this particular piece is more action than fantasy.
This is only the first page and a half of my chapter, and i don't know if i should post anymore....
Wind whispered through the trees as I ran. My paws hit the ground almost silently; quite an accomplishment for an almost-full grown panther. The moon was bright tonight. Bright enough to bath the world in a silver glow. I didn’t need the moon to see. My eyesight was as good at night as it was by day.
“Jace!” a wolf howled into the night. I sped up, angling myself toward the sound. James, my mentor, would whip my sorry butt if I didn’t come fast enough. Aside from that, I had no wish to be alone in the forest when an army of immortals could be lurking behind any tree.
I skidded into the clearing. One thousand shape-shifters, all in their second form, watched as I took my place next to James. I wasn’t a warrior yet, only an apprentice, and I was supposed to keep close to my mentor during battle. His job was too keep me from getting killed too quickly.
“They’ll be here soon.” The low whisper rippled through the small army. I could feel the fur on my neck stand up. All I had known my entire life was fighting. The four dominant races of Earth, shape-shifters, vampires, faeries, and humans, had been warring long before I was born. For generations, we pressed for a victory. But it just wasn’t possible. There could be no winner.
Suddenly, the forest was full of people. Golden-eyed, extraordinarily beautiful people with swords and scythes of silver, the only metal that could kill an immortal. The faeries had arrived.
I charged into the thick of the fighting, nothing but a whirlwind of ivory claws and razor sharp teeth. I felt what seasoned fighters spoke of, the coldness of the blood. It was as cold as ice. The only fear I felt was fear of myself.
But then came the screams. The groans. The blood; gold for the faeries, scarlet for the shape-shifters. A silver blade cut into my shoulder, and I growled in pain, turning on my attacker. He had no time to run before I had him.
My heart pounded in my chest. It was too loud, too fast. How cold killing made you. So very cold, though your skin was burning and your blood was flowing fever-hot. I saw the faces of my enemies, contorted with rage and hatred – or was it terror?
I was shaking convulsively. A scythe slashed my leg – my human leg, not my panther’s one. I staggered to the edge of the battle field and threw up next to one of the bodies. Red dots danced in my vision. I collapsed on the ground, using all my remaining strength to hold my panther form.
Then everything went dark.
Gender:
Points: 1903
Reviews: 61