The tale of an injured warrior.
My Tortured eyes glaze over; pain is racking my body in waves. It feels like agony has sharp nails, she is a cold and tireless bitch. I try to move and the effort is in vain I hear the screams from the others they pierce my blissful unconsciousness and cause me to writhe. I know what is waiting for me the second I wake .I am the strongest warrior in my clan yet I have fallen all hope is lost and we are doomed.
I pull gently on consciousness trying to see if I am going to feel the white hot lightning of pain again but I surface gently. I gaze at the destruction and try to reorient myself why has no one come to finish me? I am their greatest threat yet no one has come to end my agony. I roll to my side to see if I can see any of the enemy but it is so hazy, smoke has engulfed the battlefield like thick sea fog. Why can I hear no sounds now not even the cries of the injured reach me, I see no one just the outlines of something. I tentively stand testing my legs for sturdiness and I succeed, I must check my injuries and find my men.
The last thing I remember before falling is hot blood flowing from my neck, it felt as if my body was emptying out onto my armored chest yet here I stand .I reach towards the grievous wound, how did the bleeding stop? How am I standing? I touch the wound it is like a second mouth and no pain touches me. I am startled and seriously worried I must be far more injured then I thought.
I look up and around, there is a women coming through the fog, I am confused and hurt I cannot be seeing who I think I am. It is my beloved Agata she is bathed in beauty, light and glides towards me serenely. I know of my fate I am dead, I am one of the fallen, an Einherjar and she is my Valkyrie come to take me to Valhalla. My heart soars with this prospect, yes I am lost unable to fight or love in this world but I am ready to go to the next. I am so weary of this war I have fought for my people for fifteen long years and I am ready for my reward.