Prologue

He raised his eyes to the tree tops and watched the light filter through, sending a dappled green cast on the world below the canopies. His armor was slick with the blood of his comrades. His hair was covered in the clotted red and made it form thick, lank ropes. His hands were bruised and bleeding. He watched the light with the fascination of a child, the wonder of one who had never seen the world in its beauty. The man grabbed his hair and held it tightly as if he'd expected a fight. But the fight was gone from him. He no longer wanted death. He had seen enough death in the night. The blood of his lover was thick on his lips and teeth and he sucked at his cheek, wanting it to go away. The knife split the skin of his throat and black ichor bubbled from the gash. He found he could not breath and his blood welled in his mouth. He grabbed his throat, his fingers numbly finding the slice. The blood would not stop... it would not stop.

"Maria."

Author's Note

I just need help with this. I don't know where it's going. I am horrible at grammar and things of that ilk. I just need help with this.