Arrows in the Rain

A short-story of mine

Steel roared in the cold night air, not unlike thunder or that of a great eruption from a volcano. It was icy, haunting and echoed with such fury that none who might have passed by, could well have mistaken it for aught other than it was. The cries of the dying was the only sound that proved itself louder than this macabre symphony concocted by the most…