A faint breeze rustled the leaves in the trees, gently fanning the flames below. It did not gust as you would expect a natural wind to, it maintained a constant speed and intensity. The warrior that had remained on the bank looked across. His face was contorted into a grimace of discomforted confusion, he put a hand up to his throat. Severin could see the tell-tale red whorls starting to appear on his neck. He opened his mouth wide but no sound came out, his face was paling as the oxygenated blood flowed away. His chest started to heave which was in fact the worse thing he could have done. It simply expelled the air from his lungs faster allowing Severin to pull it away even quicker. Severin watched the tartar with sinister fascination as he became limp, his eyes rolled back and he collaps
