text: His eyes open. There lays his friend who is long since dead. Pain washes over him like a frigid lake. It gnaws away at his resolve for every throb. He pushes himself up crying silently. He prays that the message has gotten through, but now he knows not what to do. What can he do now before he dies? His blood leaves him while cold takes him. Death's army will blanket him before night. They have won this fight.
  
  He takes his knife. It looks so merciful. A simple thrust will end all that's terrible. It sparkles in the light while it touches his chest, but it never does pierce his flesh. Is he to cowardly to sink the blade, or does he have some hope of being saved? Not even the lonely soul knows.
  
  He sheaths the blade and cries like a child. Something drives him onwards. Something forces him to continue in the wild. He limps over to his friend. He takes him clothes and cloak, for the dead need nothing from this world. He wraps bandages around his wounds to slow the bleeding from his arms and legs.
  
  He continues to somewhere though he does not know where that is. He is lost and alone. He is bleeding and cold as is mind drifts back to his home. Why can't he be sitting by a fire as the smell of bread lofts throughout the house? His legs long for having his children sit upon his lap. His lips wish for his wife's kiss. He cries more and clings onto his memories.
  
  He stops. This is the road though the monsters are not here anymore. They must have left. Has the captain reached the others? Haken does not know, but he wants to find out. Were all of their efforts in vain?
  
  He walks down the Devil's Gash. He hears nothing but the wind's howling. It sounds like the screams of men dying. The wind is mocking him, for it knows his fate.
  
  As he rounds a corner, he sees a single creature, but it does not notice him. His hand rests on his sword, and his legs scream in an unheard pain.
  
  > go Around
  ​Haken limps off the path and into the wilds. What if there are others there? What if he has not the strength? He cannot risk death over a single foe. No, he must make it out alive.
  
  Though the plies of snow block his way, he will still go on. His shivering increases. Snow comes into his boots. Parts of his clothes become damp. He desires to make a fire, but that is suicide. Death's army will see the lofting sighs of fire like a pillar in a sky. They would come and destroy him leaving no trace but blood behind. He must bear the cold.
  
  He has to come back to the path. There, it is possible to trek without as much fear of a cold death. Turning back to the path, he walks determined. His vision slowly fades and the world seems to become blue. The forest closes in upon the lonely man, yet he has to escape from this wooden prison.
  
  The branches seem to grasp at his arms. They pull him back to keep him from the path. He takes out his knife and hacks away that any branch that dares to be in his way. His mind is filled with a horrid dread.
  
  Cut! Cut you hopeless soul. Try as you might, there'll be more branches in your way. One limb falls only for another to take its place. It's hopeless. You're hopeless, Haken. The branches pull back at you now. You can't hear it, but the forest laughs at your feeble attempt. Can you cut down a tree with a knife? No, it will stand firm. The blade would break before you could cut our flesh. We will pull back at you!
  
  He falls to the ground, and the voice fades. He loses consciousness.
  
  His head is engulfed by an icy dance. Witches of snow dance about his body as if he is their cauldron. Hounds bark with the witches' chanting. Death cackles through their noise. The thumping of horses' hooves approach.
  
  He awakens, but the hooves' sound still persists. He looks up. Has help come to save him?
  
  > Horses and Riders
  There are three riders ahead approaching towards him. As their distance diminishes, he sees their form and draws his sword.
  
  The riders are like reflections in a dusty mirror. They are images of what he knows, but what he perceives is distorted. Now, these distortions will be his death.
  
  He stands firm waiting for a final blow, but none comes. The horses slow while the distortion's gaze never leaves his.
  
  "Haken, it is nice to see you," a distortion says that was once his captain. He does not reply. It boasts, "The battle is over. Death's army has prevailed. Even we have fallen by the blade. We wish for you to become among us, for you are a good fellow."
  
  He says nothing.
  
  "Please, your family can be with us as well. It would only be a transfer of power. We will be more than willing to spare you all quarter," says the once-captain.
  
  A thousand thoughts all rush through his head, but he concludes that he will momentarily be dead. Out of love for his family, he will fall. For them, he will give his all. For them, he will ask for no quarter. He will not tarnish them like those he once could call friends.
  
  "I know the tales," Haken declares, "Your soul is gone. You're nothing but bones."
  
  He swings his sword at the captain's skeleton. He breaks through the head sending it crumbling down. The other two charge at him to spill his blood.
  
  > Fight
  He swings at another, but it deflects his blow. It falls off the horse from his mighty force as he turns to the other in this grueling fight. It charges at him on its steed. He ducks under its chain and spiked ball. It grazes its shoulder causing him to bleed while the other distortion moves to maul Haken.
  
  It grasps his head and tears into him with its fingers. One of its fingers penetrates into his eye. He drops his sword and reaches for his assailant. He takes its shoulders and throws it off. He hacks its arm to the ground with his knife.
  
  Pain pierces him in his chest as the spiked ball smashes with a crunch. He falls back to the earth and reaches for his sword. His hand seizes the handle while the deformed horseman comes for another attack. It swings its ball down while he thrusts his sword up.
  
  The ball crashes down on his head while his sword goes into the deformed rider's chest. It crumbles to bones, and his head explodes. Blood sprays out from his neck, then slows to a steady trickle. His body twitches for just a moment.
  
  He is dead. The cold engulfs his corpse.
  
  > Bones
  Winter turns to spring; spring turns to summer. Death's army never ceases its utter rape of the world. It plunders and conquers and leaves none behind. Soon, the times before are long since forgotten and the memories of the living are of nothing but death.
  
  Some travelers of death's realm pass through the Devil's gash. At the end of the journey all of them see a body lying lifelessly. It still has bones, a longstanding curse, that never will rot from this earth.
  
  The bones are of a soldier among the last to still fight. Though he tried to do what was right, he failed becoming a silent testament to the ones who refused to let go of their resentment. He did not accept the mercy from death causing its furry upon him.
  
  For the rest of the world's days, above the bones are words that say
  
  He asked for no quarter. They gave him no quarter.