The wind shifted and out of the smoke lumbered one of the beasts. Crooked teeth filled his sneer, and his cheeks were smeared with the blood of ones who had gone before her, and as he approached, a low growl rose in his throat.

She planted her feet wide as she raised the sword, and when he lunged, she swung. She believed there’d be resistance, some slowing of the blade as it sliced through his neck, but the steel was sharp and true. In an instant, his knees buckled, and she watched his head roll across the dirt in one direction as his body slumped in another. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw movement, and spinning toward it, she brought the sword high again, and another as rabid as the first found himself headless and dead a moment later. She turned again, only to retreat when the next was too close. She plunged the sword into his belly, and when he snickered, she pulled it out and took off his head.

Blood ran down the blade, coating her hand in a sticky warmth that was almost comforting, for it told her she had yet to die. Alerted by the sound of footsteps behind her, she whipped around and swung hard at yet another. Again, he met his maker, and she did not…but the next would be her demise.

As massive as a tree and almost as tall, even with her mightiest of swings, she knew she’d barely reach his biceps. With a grunt, she lifted her weapon above her head, preparing to split his skull like a melon if given the chance. Her body tensed as what she believed to be her last act in life, and then a voice bellowed through the fog.

In an instant, the towering giant stopped, and the cacophony of the chaos surrounding her ceased to be. The shrieks of women quieted to whimpers, and as the pleas of children for their parents turned to whispers, through the smoke came a man riding a ghostly white steed.

She held her head high as he approached, and when he slipped from his saddle and strutted toward her, she didn’t move an inch. A few inches taller than herself, she defiantly raised her eyes to meet his, oblivious that the blood of his men was dripping off her face. She gripped the sword’s hilt tighter, her knuckles growing whiter as each second passed. She had already accepted her own demise, so no fear lurked in her eyes as she glared at the man. She wanted him to see her strength before he took her life…and then he spoke.