text: [Themes: fan fiction]
  
  He orders his men to charge at the monstrous beast. They draw their swords which shine in the light. Onwards they go to their impending doom.
  
  The beast lets out a scream, and the horses lose their minds. The men jump off their untrustworthy steeds and surround the beast. It lashes out against the men. They dodge or slice at its hands.
  
  One man is too slow. He is crushed within the creature's fingers. He shrieks like a child before his mouth is filled with blood. His body is tossed to the snow like a girl's doll. He shrieks no more.
  
  Another man's head is smashed inwards. His skull turns to rubble as his body crumbles to the snow. It throws a boulder to the captain, but he barely leaps from death.
  
  The captain orders his men to pull back, but two press on with their assault. No, they will not flee. One man distracts the beast by feigning an attack. The other jumps onto its back. His sword then pierces into its neck and severs its head from its dimorphic body. It collapses to the ground and the man falls off. His companion picks him up, and the slightest of smiles appear on their lips. Yet, it vanishes when the others see more of death's horde near.
  
  The one man falls once again and comes to the conclusion that his death is at hand. His leg no longer works. It appears broke, yet his friend once again comes to his aid. He lifts up his companion and they grab a horse. They ride forewords with the eight others leaving behind two corpses to rot away alone.
  
  The fastest of the creatures cannot keep pace with the company. The loose ground tries to force the horses to crash onto the earth, but they still hold up their riders as their mouths foam unceasingly. The eyes of the swift creates are filled with fear, for they do not hide their emotions like the riders. No, they freely show their desperate fear.
  
  A howling erupts behind the ten. The Devil's hounds have their scent. No horse can outrun such a beast. Nothing can keep the hounds from their living feast. Tales of dread swarm through the men's heads. The hounds are known throughout the land as amongst the most fearsome of them all.
  
  "Onwards men!" yells the captain. "It is not far until we leave the mountains!"
  
  Just minutes away beckoning like a twinkling star rests the end of the Devil's Gash and the mountain. There is the end of their journey of despair. Perhaps, they can give the message.
  
  Then, the hounds appear from the mist. Long before the company can succeed, fangs will pierce flesh.
  
  Something must be done. Their lives matter not when compared to their goal. The captain realizes they have but one choice.
  
  > buy the Others Time
  The captain yells, "Ride on! We'll stall them!"
  
  As some of the company moves on, the captain and seven others stay to fight. The horses flee as the men slash at the hounds nearing them though their hearts are full of fear. Some of the men are torn to shreds while others defend themselves. The captain chops off the head of one beast and pushes off another from one of his men.
  
  The five remaining move back to back in order to defend against the next attack. The hounds of their doom circle around the men to find a gap in their defense. There is none so the hounds back away. They keep their distance from the men but do not leave. Time is being bought.
  
  As blood runs down their arms, legs, and necks to the ground, it turns the white to red. The blood freezes soon enough making the hounds hunger even more. The blood is being lost, and that is their main lust. Blood tastes so delicious.
  
  It becomes a standoff for the two groups. The hunters and hunted do not stand down. The captain prays that word gets through, yet he no longer knows what to do. What can he do now they are surrounded? Any attempt to flee will surely be death, and staying here will guarantee their demise. Yes, they will die. This he accepts.
  
  The Devil's hounds hunger evermore. They look to one another for a moment. Then, they attack. Slashing, biting, and yelling all spew from the battle. The captain holds his ground and slays three more. His men drop one by one each with death's gaze in their eyes.
  
  He kills another and turns around, but not a living soul is there to be found. All that is there are two more hounds. All of these sons, husbands, and father are now fallen which makes the captain's heart full of sorrow. He was supposed to protect his men. Now, they are dead.
  
  He charges at the hounds to give them their doom. He stabs one but his sword it torn away. He takes out his knife, and one leaps on top of him. It bites into his shoulder when he pierces its chest. He pushes it off and crushes its head with his boot.
  
  The other latches onto his arm. He drops his knife as it tears to his bone. He punches its mouth, but it does not care. It bites at his face, but his good arm reaches for his knife. He grasps its handle and sleighs the beast.
  
  > They Held No Quarter
  He yells. The pain is too great. He cries as his blood pours to the snow. Winter's hand grasps his flesh. The cold penetrates throughout the captain. He shivers as the light fades to darkness, but he cannot tell if it's the sun's light or his life that weakens.
  
  All he does in his final moments is wish that his last men make it in time. They have to deliver the news. It is the only way for which everyone else can live in free days.
  
  He lets out a sigh, then he dies. Whilst his corpse lies among the others, then wind blows snow onto them. It freezes their bodies, but provides a temporary grave. These men gave everything they had. The spared none. To death's army, they held no quarter.