New Moon Waxing 12%

"My goddess," he thought wearily on his hands and knees in the snow, "Is that my blood?" Lyall thought out loud. Behind him there came a gruff laughter followed by the crunching of footsteps in the frost and a thunderous kick sent the hume rolling onto his back. He blinked, shaking the cobwebs from his brain and staring into the sky. It was funny, if he'd been asked Lyall never would have thought he'd die under a pristine blue sky. His straggling mind wondered what color the sky had been when Loo-

The thought was forced out of him by another powerful strike, this time in his sternum. Wheezing for breath Lyall doubled into himself, turning to try and cover his vitals. Part of his brain knew it didn't matter, he'd seen the curved blade the Kindred had been holding before it had come to hand-to-hand combat. It couldn't be any further from the demon than his own axe could be from him. The difference was Lyall's feet were flat out while the Kindred still was on his. Another burst of laughter and another kick. Something in a language Lyall didn't quite understand. Footsteps.

It had only been a few hours ago he was thanking his luck. The New Moon had passed without much harm and he hadn't been bothered terribly on his way across the Glacier. Once he'd reached Xarcabard the sense of safety was gone but even then nothing much had bothered him. He'd heard some tremendous footsteps one evening but nothing had come near him. He shouldn't have let himself get comfortable, he shouldn't have let his guard down... He smiled bitterly at the fact the first Kindred he'd met would be the one to kill him.

"Loo would be so disappointed in me, being bested in singles combat..." he said aloud. It didn't matter if the demon could hear him or not, he reasoned. Lyall got to his knees and forced himself upright, his hands scrabbling for his weapon and dragging it beneath him for support. There was blood in the snow but he didn't know where he was wounded, whether it was serious or only superficial. The kindred regarded him with what Lyall thought was a sneer and approached with weapon in hand.

"I made a promise, creature, and I intend to keep it." Leaning heavily on the haft of the great axe Lyall forced himself to his feet and spit crimson. "She's much scarier than you are."