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Not all know the legend of a living and moving horse made out of pure metal. They say that you can see the horse every night for a few minutes. But the horse moves around. You sometimes see it walking on the dark woods of Finland; sometimes it flees across the silky fields of Sweden. But in Norway, you can see that same horse fly through the fjord against the night sky. Because this horse has wings, and its wings are not pure white and soft feathered. It’s so called feathers are made of sharp and thin metal pieces. Its wings are strong and soundless, when it flies across the sky. And the feathers can cut through anything.
Some of the older ones say that sometimes you can see a rider with the horse. The rider looks like a young living human being, but still it's different and unnatural. Some say the rider is a young beautiful white-haired woman. Others say that it's a young man. But everyone are telling that the rider has always the same features.

Now everybody wants an answer for that same question: Why the horse and the rider is alive? What is their mission in here?

Now I think that I know.

They fight for us. They fight for us humans. They're soldiers who fight an eternal war against Death itself. They try to light as many lifes back on, and they blow off some lifes too, if it's necessary. They work for the Third Will.

But right now, when I watch the rider move closer to me with the elegant and soundless horse, I understand.

When they turn your spark of life off, they reveal that dark side from themselves. All that beauty and elegance was just a placebo.

Time wins it all. Now the horse had lost one of its wings. Another one was rusty and made a terrifying noise when the horse moved.

With every step the horse made, the now dark forest was filled with terrible squeaks and groans. The horse was rusty and broken. The battles had taken it's price.

And the rider. They were not a woman or a man. They were just a bloody walking body with dozens of cuts and bruises.

"Sorry that you have to see us like this. But you're going with us." the rider whispered.

"Why?"

"You're too bad to live, and too good to die. So you're one of us, a soldier of the Warren Wars."

So, that horse and it's rider are called Warrens. Too good to die, too bad to live.

And suddenly, I was made to be one of them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

/3.8.2014/Writer: Tami Haru/

Description
body div#devskin0 hr { }

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Not all know the legend of a living and moving horse made out of pure metal. They say that you can see the horse every night for a few minutes. But the horse moves around. You sometimes see it walking on the dark woods of Finland; sometimes it flees across the silky fields of Sweden. But in Norway, you can see that same horse fly through the fjord against the night sky. Because this horse has wings, and its wings are not pure white and soft feathered. It’s so called feathers are made of sharp and thin metal pieces. Its wings are strong and soundless, when it flies across the sky. And the feathers can cut through anything.
Some of the older ones say that sometimes you can see a rider with the horse. The rider looks like a young living human being, but still it's different and unnatural. Some say the rider is a young beautiful white-haired woman. Others say that it's a young man. But everyone are telling that the rider has always the same features.

Now everybody wants an answer for that same question: Why the horse and the rider is alive? What is their mission in here?

Now I think that I know.

They fight for us. They fight for us humans. They're soldiers who fight an eternal war against Death itself. They try to light as many lifes back on, and they blow off some lifes too, if it's necessary. They work for the Third Will.

But right now, when I watch the rider move closer to me with the elegant and soundless horse, I understand.

When they turn your spark of life off, they reveal that dark side from themselves. All that beauty and elegance was just a placebo.

Time wins it all. Now the horse had lost one of its wings. Another one was rusty and made a terrifying noise when the horse moved.

With every step the horse made, the now dark forest was filled with terrible squeaks and groans. The horse was rusty and broken. The battles had taken it's price.

And the rider. They were not a woman or a man. They were just a bloody walking body with dozens of cuts and bruises.

"Sorry that you have to see us like this. But you're going with us." the rider whispered.

"Why?"

"You're too bad to live, and too good to die. So you're one of us, a soldier of the Warren Wars."

So, that horse and it's rider are called Warrens. Too good to die, too bad to live.

And suddenly, I was made to be one of them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

/3.8.2014/Writer: Tami Haru/