01-06-2008, 09:48 PM
[html]
| Repressing a deep flinch, Tamerlane stumbled a few steps back and immediately reached up to remove the rest of offending branch from his shoulder. Thick splinters had dug into the flesh, and blood smattered over the muddy snow at his feet. One was not entirely inclined to look out for falling trees when the weather was not perilously windy in temperament, so the thick oak, weighed with snow, had caught him off guard when it had decided to end its life and attempt to take an innocent passer-by with it. Indeed, if his life of physical exertion and athleticism had been null and void, the young Storm loner would have been dead by now. All that had caught him had been a particularly nasty branch, and Tamerlane headed now to the nearest water source to wash the blood, splinters and mud from his sinewy arm. A young hybrid, lissom and richly-coloured, loomed into view, but went unacknowledged by the tall Spaher. He was soon by a narrow waterfall, and, inhaling through his white teeth, he washed the wound on his shoulder. A second after which his muscles were numb and blood staunched, he glanced sidelong at the bright-eyed male. My apologies for ruining your view, he said, a dark humour so subtle that it might as well have been nothing but a cynical comment. |