The clouds were darkened in his narrow weak eyes. It was raining a little, but he could barely feel the water drops on his grizzly brown hair. What he felt well was helplessness, that and an incredibly strong will to go back in time.198Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqR84xAAOGI
198Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjEMvlbSHiR
He wished he could see her. For now his back is against a tree looking at his own blood because he fought for her. Irina has been dead for years, but never inside his heart. All the deeds that the Shadowhill Gang have been doing could not turn up a bit of honor in anyone. He could not just stand and watch the gang that has killed his fiance keep their games going.198Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡzqWFj2avB6
People will think of him as a traitor, a betrayer of his own kind. He knew that going against the gang might bring misery to the whole village which it did. Bodies were all around him, cut and dismembered. Blood soaked soil was never going to bring up any crops, yet his wounded back was against a nice shady palm tree. It was peaceful despite the butchery around him. He felt that he only needed one hug from her, and then he could close his eyes at last.
Irina was never the one giving hugs. She was always shy, and he liked that about her more than anything. As his eyes were closed together in spite of his strong will to keep them open, his wish has turned into a reality, or at least he thought it did.
He saw her. "Don't be afraid, Pytr." She kept telling him with a hand on his wound. The softness of her palm got wrenched with the blood.
"I'm sorry, Irina. I failed you and everyone," said Pytr with gaping breaths interrupted by strong coughing and visions of the field massacre.
"Just rest now." With one last look at her curled hair in her favorite tree painted dress, his eyes were shut.
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