The Four Horsemen of Apocalypse

It's time. They are here.


15. A Matter of War

Death's skeletal side had appeared once more, slicing through monsters like there was no tomorrow. Perhaps there wasn't- she didn't know as of yet. Her bones clicked as she moved, her cloak whipping around her in the strong winds that had brewed. She held the scythe lightly, swinging it here and there with the ease of a well-seasoned combatant, much like her kin. They kept coming, from all sides, emerging from the dark and charging at the horsemen.
 She even had time to examine the surroundings.

The main feature was, of course, the valley they stood in. A steep incline on one side, and a slight hill on the other. Beyond the smaller hill, a massive bank of trees could be seen. A small stream wound its way beneath their feet, trickling downhill amongst the dark shapes of rocks. Death imagined a sort of landslide had occurred, hundreds and hundreds of years ago, piling up to form the hill and being buried beneath a mound of long, untamed grass. With only the deer to keep the hills company, no wonder these things had appeared here first.

It was no surprise. All four of them knew they would come. There was no question of that.

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